


Lucy

by darlingwendy



Series: Lucy-verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, M/M, au: tangled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingwendy/pseuds/darlingwendy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Quinn is forbidden to leave her home under any circumstances, and she constantly wonders when her life will begin. But when a chance encounter with a handsome prince occurs, the answer to her life-long question is revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't just leave my AO3 empty, and I figured how better to christen it than with my first chaptered fic? Commentary is always appreciated!

Once upon a time, there lived a family. This family did not live in a small house or a cottage near a river, but rather a large castle, with spires that twisted toward the sky, turrets solid and strong, and a drawbridge that set them safely behind a moat. According to the folk lore, the moat was filled with crocodiles that were fed only once a week, to keep them hungry for trespassers. The royal family of Marcel lived in the heart of this castle, a tiny family of three who loved each other dearly. The King was a wise man named William, who had the best intentions of his people at heart. He kept good relationships with his royal guard, and considered them all to be his closest confidants. However, he once discovered one of his best, a man by the name of Russell Fabray, attempting to steal from the royal treasury. It hurt him to let one of his best men go, but William knew what was best for the kingdom. Russell was angry, and vowed revenge as he was dragged out of the palace. Keep him in mind. He'll return later, I promise. William was often led by his heart, and tried his best to go out as often as possible to see his people and discover their needs. His emotional approach would have often gotten him in trouble, if it wasn't for his wife, Queen Shelby. Shelby was a very practical woman, who, although kind, was stern, and knew that sometimes the mind had to take precedence over the heart. It was by her advice that William let Russell go, and although she knew it hurt her husband to let go of a good knight and a dear friend, she also knew it had to be done. That was the queen's nature: tough and strong-willed. Her soft spot, however, was their daughter Lucy. She was a beautiful child, with golden hair as soft as silk, and eyes as bright as stars. She was their shining beauty, their pride and joy, and the king and queen doted on her as often as they could.

When word got out that the queen was having a baby, celebration rang out through the kingdom. The people of the land were almost as excited as the King and Queen themselves, and many peasants and royals alike came to visit the kingdom, bearing gifts and goodwill towards the queen and the future child. Even King and Queen Hummel of Mila, the rulers of the next kingdom over, came to visit, paying their respects and giving their best wishes that the child would be a healthy one. Along with them was their oldest son, Prince Finn, and their newest child, Prince Kurt, and Queen Shelby and King William were ecstatic to see their old friends again.

The night of the princess's birth, all of the kingdom's doctors were in the birthing room, and at the queen's request, William wasn't. He paced outside anxiously, his only companion his nerves. Hours later, a midwife came out, motioning for the king to come inside. He walked in quickly, moving to the side of his wife, his face softening when he laid eyes on their beautiful baby girl. As she stared up at him, the queen whispered, "Lucy." And so it was. As celebration, the king and queen lit a floating lantern, lifting it up to the sky as a signal to all that everything was well.

Now, in a kingdom such as this one, word spreads quickly. And often, it reaches the outskirts, where a certain man and his wife were living. Now, this man and his wife wanted a child badly. But, his wife was unable to carry children, and it was heartbreaking news for both of them. The man began to get ideas. He plotted. He waited, he bided his time. He bought his wife a house in the kingdom of Mila, and told his wife to wait, for he would be back in seven days. It took three days to reach the kingdom of Marcel, and that was the man's destination. His wife nodded, and the man left, returning to Marcel in the dead of night. He stood in front of the castle and stared up at it, cold blood running through his veins. Now, this man knew his way around this castle. He had spent most of his life inside of it, and he knew its weak points. He had a single goal: revenge.

He knew he had to be silent, and silent he was. He crept through corridors, he snuck down hallways and he slipped through doors until he reached the bedroom he had been searching for. He tiptoed across the room and stood over the crib of the princess.

"Revenge, William, is a delicious thing," he whispered, picking up the child and cradling her close to his chest. Yes, Russell Fabray knew how revenge worked. Told you he'd come back.

Quickly, he ran from the castle, stifling the child's cries with his coat. He ran out of the palace, leapt onto his faithful horse, and rode as quickly as he could back to his wife. He would tell her the child was for her, but it was a lie. He only wanted the child because he knew it was the one thing that would destroy William the most.

And he was right. As morning rose on the castle, the Queen rose from her bed, gentle so as not to wake William, and moved into their daughter's room. It was said her screams could be heard across the kingdom. For days after, all knights and royal guard members scoured the land, searching every inch for the princess. But it was to no avail. She was gone. The Queen fell sick, and try as they might, not a single doctor could find a cure. It was the first record of a human dying of heartbreak.

The king was distraught. He had lost his daughter and his wife, and without them, he was unable to see the beauty in the world. His heart grew hard, and from that day forward, King William was no longer the joyful king, but one with an iron fist and an unhappy heart. Every year, King William released a floating lantern in hopes his child would be returned, but every year, as the lanterns from all over the kingdom consumed the sky with their glow, he lost a little more hope.

However, back at the Fabray estate, Judy was ecstatic. She, like her husband, saw no problem in stealing a child to replace the one they couldn't have. She doted on the child almost as much, if not more, as the princess's true parents did. Russell suggested they change the child's name, so no one would be suspicious. Judy agreed wholeheartedly, and after discovering their daughter reading at the young age of three, they decided on Quinn. It meant wise, and they found it fitting. They kept her in their house, forbidding her departure. Her parents placed her in a back room, so she could never see the lanterns that were lit in her honor, taking careful precautions to erase every bit of her old life from her new one. They hired a private tutor for her to learn, and she became verse in several different subjects. Social skills, however, was not one of them.

Her first interaction with someone other than her tutor or her parents was with a stable boy named Samuel. Quinn was seven, and she sat in her room, re-reading one of the three books located in the large house, her window open to let in the warm spring breeze, when he leapt through said window and landed in front of her with a loud clump. She looked up, took one look at him, and let out a large shriek. His eyes widened and he threw himself at her, clamping his hand over her mouth.

"Will you be quiet? You're going to get me in trouble!" He hissed, and she looked up at him with indignant eyes, conveying her message easily: get off of me. He rolled off of her, watching her warily in case she made another move to shout.

"What do you think you're doing?" She hissed, moving off of the bed and standing by the window. She adjusted her dress before glaring at him. He moved off her bed, standing at the other end, looking back at her.

"One of the stable hands said that they kept a girl locked up here. I came to see if it was true."

"I am not locked up here-" Quinn started, folding her arms across her chest, and he stared at her, raising his eyebrows.

"How come I've never seen you around before, then?" He asked, and she glared at him with pursed lips before rolling her eyes.

"Alright. I'm locked up here. Now go away."

"No way! I just got up here! I'm not leaving, even if you are a dumb girl."

"I'm not dumb! And this is my room, and my house, and I'm telling you to leave, so you have to leave. Hey, what are you doing?" Quinn said, about to stomp her foot when she saw him lean forward and grab the book that had been abandoned when he tackled her to the bed.

"What's this?"

"A book." Quinn replied, watching him carefully. She had never met another person before, and with the way this boy was acting, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"What do you do with it?"

"You read it." Quinn replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh." Sam said, his face dropping slightly as he stared at the pages. Suddenly, Quinn felt a surge of…something towards the boy, not quite pity but something close. She moved around the bed, taking the book from him and turning it around.

"You were holding it upside down." She told him, a smile tugging at her lips. He frowned, throwing the book on the bed and moving away from her.

"Books are stupid." He muttered.

"You can't read…can you?" Quinn said slowly, realization dawning on her.

"I don't need to read! I'm a stable boy. Reading's for pansies." Sam said, staring out the window angrily. Quinn moved to stand by him again.

"I can teach you." She said quietly. "I'll teach you if you tell me what it's like out there." She said, her gaze moving to the window. She stared out it dreamily for a second, while Sam examined her face.

"You can't tell anyone I'm learning how to read. They'll make fun of me." He said, almost pouting. Quinn smiled.

"I won't tell. I promise."

And so their friendship began. It was slightly dysfunctional, true, seeing as he was all about people and she had no idea how to interact with them, but it worked. They grew up together and learned things about each other, confided in each other, worked with each other. He stole her books and she taught him how to read them. She even tried to kiss him once, after reading countless tales of romance, and he had pushed her away. They were twelve at the time, although his birthday was only a fortnight away, and she stared at him with questions in her eyes. It was then he confessed he wasn't sure he could ever like a girl in the way he was supposed to, and he admitted that he was afraid something was wrong with him. It was the first time he cried in front of a person, and she was quiet for such a long time that he was afraid she would hate him. But she looked at him, and smiled graciously, wiping away his tears. She gave him a hug, and he slowly returned it, and she smiled, pulling back.

"Steal me a new book, please. I've read all of these a thousand times." Quinn said, and he couldn't help but laugh as she smiled sideways at him. It was her way of letting him know that no matter what he did, he was her best friend, and she was his. Her parents weren't fond of the friendship – they often told her that he was beneath her – but Quinn wanted it, and more often than not, Quinn got what she wanted.

Except, of course, an experience in the outside world. That was strictly forbidden. Russell had made it clear that Quinn was never to leave the house. Sam, however, had other plans. And this, my friends, is where our story begins.


	2. life begins

"We won't get caught if you're careful." Sam said, lounging on Quinn's bed, a book in one hand and an apple in the other. Quinn stared at him through the mirror she was sitting in front of, a brush in one hand and her long blonde hair in the other. He glanced up, shrugging innocently.

"It's a suggestion."

"One you know the answer to. I can't sneak out. My parents would probably tie me down to my bed. I…I can't disobey them." Sam sighed, dropping the book on the bed and getting up, tossing the apple core out the window and ignoring her dismayed look. He kneeled down next to her at the vanity, staring up at her.

"You can't live your life if all you do is sit in this house and read about the real world. You have to experience it." He said softly. Quinn bit her lip, her gaze moving from him to the window, watching as the trees that surrounded her house blew gently in the breeze. She felt her heart leap, eager to leave this confinement and finally, truly experience what it was like outside, but then her mother's face flashed before her eyes, and her heart sunk, and her face dropped, and Sam sighed, because he knew what she was about to say.

"I can't, Sam." She said, turning back and brushing her hair. "One day they'll let me out of here. I can wait until then." Sam let out an exasperated sigh, standing up and shaking his head at her.

"You're impossible."

"I'm being a good daughter."

"You're being illogical. They're never going to let you out of here. You're sixteen, Quinn. If they were going to let you go outside, they would have done it a long time ago. Do you even know what grass feels like?" Sam asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. Quinn stared at him, rolling her eyes and looking away.

"I'm not going to sneak out, Sam. That's final." He opened his mouth to say something, but they both heard the front door shut, and Russell's voice floating up the stairs.

"Quinn, we're home!" The blondes' eyes widened, and they stared at each other.

"Get out! Go! They'll kill you, you know you're not supposed to be in here when they're not home!" Quinn hissed. Her parents had set down strict rules when it came to Samuel, and his being alone with their precious daughter broke at least three of them. They were afraid that he would get their only child pregnant, and Quinn didn't have the heart to explain to them that the probability of that happening was slim to none, closer to none. Quickly, Sam leapt out the window, his fingertips disappearing from the windowsill as soon as Judy and Russell opened the door to Quinn's room. She turned quickly, smiling brightly.

"Hello, Mother, hello Father." She moved forward, kissing each of their cheeks.

"Oh, Quinnie, you look beautiful." Judy cooed, cupping Quinn's cheek. Russell nodded in agreement, but as always, his gaze was slightly distracted. "How has your day been? You know your father and I hate to leave you alone, but we had some errands to run. Isn't that right, Russell?" Judy looked up when her husband didn't respond right away, and pursed her lips together.

"Russell, dear, why don't you go see if the post has arrived, hm?" Judy suggested, and Russell finally looked at his wife, nodding curtly before leaving the room. Judy turned to look at Quinn, a faltering smile on her lips.

"He cares, you know," the older woman said, and Quinn nodded quickly in agreement. It had always been like this. Quinn was sure this was how normal parents acted around each other, although Sam often told her otherwise.

Russell Fabray was a distant father, and an even more distant husband. He was distracted in his thoughts most of the time, and the only moments he spoke to his daughter were to lay down new rules, which were usually just facets off of one big one: never leave the house. Judy was a timid, meek woman who nodded eagerly whenever her husband spoke. She, however, was very attentive to Quinn, and often doted on her; bringing her little gifts, braiding her hair, and just talking to the girl. While she was sure having a favorite parent wasn't something normal, Quinn had to admit she favored her mother's somewhat overbearing personality to her father's cold one. It had always been this way, for as long as Quinn could remember. She didn't mind; it was an accepted fact of her life. She wasn't allowed to leave the house. Her father was cold. Her mother was warm.

Judy smiled at her daughter a bit stronger, leaning over and picking up the brush from Quinn's vanity. "How about I braid your hair in the living room, hm? I'll put some tea to boil and while we wait I'll braid, and you can tell me about your day." Quinn smiled at her mother through the mirror and nodded, rising from the pouf she had seated herself on after her father left the room, following her mother down the spiral staircase and into the living room. Judy pulled up a small stool in front of the lavish settee, and Quinn sat down obediently, letting her mother run the brush through her golden hair.

"So, Mother…" Quinn began tentatively, licking her lips nervously.

"Hm?" Judy hummed from behind her, putting the brush down and dividing Quinn's hair into three parts. Quinn paused. She had to explain this carefully, choose her words wisely, because if she didn't it meant certain rejection without any chance of explaining herself.

"I've been thinking." Quinn began, her tone casual and light. Judy raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, letting her daughter continue. "As you know, my 17th birthday is coming up in a few days, and I've been thinking a lot about what I want." She paused, as if gauging her mother's reaction, but Judy's hands continued to move, braiding Quinn's hair. Quinn took that as a good sign and pressed on. "I figure that you and Father just want to keep me safe, so I was thinking…" Judy's hands began to slow down, so Quinn sped up. "Perhaps you and Father can take me out of the house to see the kingdom?" She finished quickly, her words blending together in a jumbled mess of pleading. Her mother's hands came to a stop, and Quinn shut her eyes, knowing what was coming next.

"Quinnie, you know your father would never agree to that…" Judy said softly, gently turning Quinn's head to look at her. "He doesn't want you leaving the house."

"But if you would just ask him! He might listen to you! Mother, please. I'm almost seventeen, and I have never set foot outside of this house. The only thing I've seen of the world is what's outside my bedroom window and that grew old when I turned seven. Mother, I'm begging you, just take me outside. I want to see the world."

"Absolutely not." The two blondes jumped at the sound of Russell's voice, harsh and commanding from the doorway. Quinn looked at her father and Judy looked down at her lap, afraid as always. Russell moved forward, the mail in his hand, his eyes dark and angry.

"You know you aren't allowed to leave this house under any circumstances." He began, dropping the mail in front of his daughter onto the table, its loud thud the only other noise in the house. "You have always known that, and to think that you would go against everything we have done for you because you can't understand that-"

"Daddy, I understand! But I have been here for my entire life, please,"

"Quinn, you are not to leave this house! Is that clear?" Russell shouted, leaning close to Quinn, staring her directly in the eye. She looked at him, a flash of defiance going across her face before she sank back in her seat, nodding.

"Yes sir." She said quietly, defeat evident in every syllable. Russell looked at her as if to add something else, and then turned to his wife.

"Judy, I expect dinner in an hour." He said shortly, turning around and walking towards the front door.

"Of course, dear." Judy said quietly, standing up immediately and moving into the kitchen. Quinn was left alone on the chair, staring down at her hands and willing herself not to cry over a dream crushed to pieces by her father's iron fist.

Across the kingdom, over a moat and through a drawbridge, up a large staircase and in a room, there sat the queen and prince of Mila, Queen Carole and Prince Kurt. They sat at a table, pouring over a list, marking names and making notes along all of them.

"Your Highness, the invitations have been delivered to every house in the kingdom." The queen looked up, giving the footman a gracious smile.

"Thank you. You are dismissed." The footman bowed, leaving the queen and her son alone again. Kurt smiled brightly at his mother, clasping his hands together in excitement.

"Oh, Mother, this is going to be spectacular, I can just see it now."

"I'm so glad you're taking interest in this ball, Kurt dear. It's nice to know that someone in this castle appreciates dances as much as I do." Carole said, an affectionate smile on her lips. Kurt laughed, reaching up and pushing a bit of hair out of his face.

"You can hardly blame Father. Balls aren't really his cup of tea, and Finn…well he's a lost cause." Kurt said with a hint of exasperation in his voice as he spoke of his brother. The two boys couldn't be more different. Kurt enjoyed spending time with their mother, planning balls and dinners or going to the archery range with his father, perfecting his aim. Kurt spent a lot of time indoors, exploring the castle, painting landscapes, and admiring the faces of the people who passed through his castle. He enjoyed the regal side of life, the fine silks and the nice clothes, the proper etiquette lessons, his title and the responsibility that came with it.

Finn, on the other hand, was almost the exact opposite. He spent most of his time as far away from the castle as possible, hunting in the forest that dotted the outskirts of Mila, or practicing his skills with a sword on the fighting range. His clothes were often dirty and comfortable, a clear contrast from his brother's suits and pins. Finn often stayed out of the castle, only coming back in for meals and when his parents told him he had to. He was the older of the brothers, which put him next in line for the throne, but if his actions were any representation of his feelings towards the crown, he didn't want it.

Carole smiled gently, placing her hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Why don't you send someone to find your brother while I go get your father? I think it's almost dinner time." She said, rising from her seat. Kurt nodded, kissing his mother's cheek as he quickly left the room, descending down the stairs and finding one of the footmen who often followed Finn to his favorite hunting spots.

"Could you be so kind as to find my brother, please?" Kurt asked softly, placing a gentle hand on the footman's arm and smiling dazzling up at him. The footman nodded, returning Kurt's smile with a flustered but wide smile of his own, turning and moving as fast as he could to fulfill the prince's request. Kurt found himself staring after the man, his eyes caught and unable to leave until from behind his father said, "Kurt!" The brunette boy turned quickly, his cheeks tinted pink as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Luckily, Burt hadn't seemed to notice, clapping his youngest son on the shoulder.

"I think your mother wants us in the kitchen for a testing before dinner. Where's Finn?"

"Outside. I sent one of the men out to go get him." Kurt said, quickly regaining his composure. The king smiled, slinging his arm around Kurt's shoulder.

"Alright. Come on, kid, you know your mother doesn't like to be kept waiting."

As Kurt was led into the kitchen with his father, his brother was miles away on the fringes of the kingdom. The castle sat in the middle, and it took about half an hour on horseback to reach where Finn was. He traveled along the outskirts of Mila, darting in and out of trees, looking every part the civilian. His white shirt was loose and baggy, an old dark blue vest draped over his shoulders, comfortable enough to move around in and easy to clean. His pants were a spotted brown, and his boots were well-worn. Around his waist was a belt holding a knife for protection, and over his shoulders hung a bow and arrow. Although his brother was much better at archery than Finn, Finn preferred the arrows when hunting.

He sighed, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. He had been running around all day, trying to focus solely on the hunt and not about what was waiting for him when he got home. Finn knew his mother and brother had been planning a ball to find a suitable girl for them to marry, which meant one more thing tying him to the throne, which was looking more and more like a stake ready to burn as the days continued. Finn didn't want to marry some airheaded princess from another kingdom, or a duchess or a lady. He wanted to marry someone he loved, not someone who had a title. Running his fingers through his hair, Finn pushed off from the tree, fully prepared to start running again, when he heard the music.

At first, he wasn't sure what it was. Finn cocked his head to the side, slowly moving away from the tree and towards the source of the noise. It was light, almost like a bird, but more…human. As he got closer, he realized it was human. It was a girl, singing. He had no idea there were houses out here, let alone houses occupied by people. Finn began to move a little quicker, wanting to figure out where the beautiful voice was coming from. Finally, he came upon a house, the back of a large house, to be more specific. He stood underneath a window, and as he stared up at it, realized he had found the source of the music. Finn was so caught up in trying to catch a glimpse of the girl singing that the blonde boy near the side of the house didn't catch his attention. Finn took a few steps back, and then he saw her.

She was beautiful. And it wasn't just because Finn had been running around all day and was probably dehydrated, she was truly beautiful. Hair as golden as the sun, she brushed it as she continued to sing, a soft song about songbirds and scores. From this far away, Finn couldn't see every detail of her face, but he could see enough to know that she was…stunning, to say the least. He stood there, completely entranced by her voice, and then, she moved to the window. She stood looking out for a moment, and then she looked down, and their eyes met. Her voice trailed off, and for a moment he was afraid she would scream out in terror or recognition, two things he most certainly did not want. But instead, she just stared at him, as if she had never seen anyone like him before. Of course, she hadn't. She had been locked away her whole life. The only men she had seen were her father and her stable boy, and neither of them looked like this boy did. She felt herself almost frozen to the spot, drawn to his eyes, unable to look away. They were both speechless, and yet they both yearned to say something. Her eyes were a bright hazel green, more green than brown, and they were enchanting. Finn took a step towards her, and she leaned a little more forward, and then –

"Finn!" The trance was broken. Finn whirled around to hear an ungraceful footman trampling through the forest, and he knew that if the footman continued to shout, he would slip out a "Your Highness!" or a "Prince!" and Finn didn't want this girl to hear that. He didn't want to be just another piece of royalty. He turned to glance back at her, but she had disappeared from the window. Disappointment washed over him, and Finn turned around, moving into the forest again, calling to the footman to let him know he was coming. Quinn stood on the wall next to the window, breathing deeply.

Who was that? She thought, unable to keep a smile from tugging on the ends of her lips. Her thoughts were disturbed by the now familiar sound of her best friend throwing himself into her window. She jumped, turning to look at the blonde.

"Do you know who that was?" Sam said, his eyes wide as he gestured out the window. Quinn shook her head, unable to speak. "That was Finn. Prince Finn." Quinn's eyes widened and she felt her heart begin to pound again. She had just made eye contact with a prince. Not just any prince, but the prince of the kingdom she lived in, the prince who was next in line to become king, Prince Finn had just caught her singing, he had seen her. "Do you know what this means?" Sam asked again, and Quinn shook her head once more. "We have to go now." Quinn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and then Sam held up the invitation to the ball.

"I found this in the trash outside. I guess your dad threw it out, but I picked it up. We have to go, Quinn. You could see him again. Finally get a chance to experience the outside."

"I can't, Sam." He opened his mouth to protest, but Quinn quickly continued. "I already asked them if I could go. My dad gave me a very firm no. They're going to be very suspicious of me, sneaking out is not an option, especially not now."

"Then distract them. Send them out. Come on Quinn, a chance like this doesn't come twice in a lifetime. You have to go. If not for him, for yourself." Quinn bit her lip, glancing out the window. She really did want to see the prince again, but she had no idea how to do so without arousing her parents' suspicions. She opened her mouth to respond, and then there was a loud knock at the door. Sam looked at Quinn and both their eyes were wide, and before Quinn could react, Sam had dove under her bed, disappearing beneath the fabric of her dust ruffle. The door swung open, revealing her father. Quinn looked up from the bed, putting on a smile.

"Hello, Father." She said quietly, and then noticed that her mother had slipped in silently behind him. "And Mother." Quinn added quickly. Judy smiled at her daughter, but made no move towards her, preferring to stay behind Russell.

"Quinnie, have a seat." Russell said, gesturing towards the bed. Quinn hesitated for a second, knowing that if she sat down, the bed would bow and possibly hit Sam. She also knew that if she disobeyed her father, he would begin to ask questions and she would probably never see Sam again, so gingerly, she perched on the edge of the bed, staring up at her parents with an innocent expression. She could practically hear Sam whining from underneath the bed, and she silently willed him to not move a muscle. If she could have, she would have swung her foot in a warning kick, but she wasn't sure where he was and she didn't want to hit him and run the risk of him making a loud noise.

"Father, before you begin, I wanted to say something." Quinn started, feeling her heartbeat increase. She wasn't sure why she was doing this, but she had already started. There was no going back. Her father raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, giving Quinn silent consent to continue.

"I've been thinking about what I asked for earlier, and…I realize now that it was completely out of line." Quinn said softly, looking up at her parents through her eyelashes. "I shouldn't have suggested something like that, and I respect your decision to keep me inside. Instead, I thought I might ask for something…smaller?" Russell exchanged a look with his wife, and Quinn bit the inside of her cheek.

"What do you have in mind, Quinnie?" Judy asked, and Quinn exhaled, a slight smile spreading over her lips.

"Well, I've been doing some reading in those books you brought me, Father, and I noticed that there's a bird I'm particularly fond of. It's a warbler. I was thinking maybe you could go get me one?"

"Quinn, that's three days worth of travelling. The only warblers are breeded in the next kingdom over, you know that." Russell said, looking at his daughter with sympathy. Quinn could feel her chance slipping away from her, and she stood up quickly.

"I know it's a bit of a travel, but I'd be willing to wait for you to come home with it." She said. "And I think it's a bit more reasonable than asking you to take me outside, and it would mean so much to me to have a friend in this room with me." The irony of her statement was not lost on Quinn, and it took every ounce of willpower not to glance under the bed.

Speaking of the friend in the room, Sam was currently in quite the predicament. After diving under the bed, he realized that his blonde friend didn't really keep anything underneath it. This was good, because it gave him more room to hide, but bad, because there were dust bunnies everywhere. If you've ever had the unfortunate opportunity to come face to face with a dust bunny, you know how devilish the creatures can be. They always seem to pop up when it is most inconvenient, and seeing as Sam wanted to keep his head instead of losing it to Mr. Fabray's wrath, this dust bunny had picked a time that was highly inconvenient. This particular dust bunny had found its way right underneath his nose, and was currently tickling his nose, and Sam had to continuously wiggle his nose to keep from sneezing. He could barely concentrate on the activity going on above him, as all his energy was focused on not sneezing.

"Well…I don't see why not. It certainly is more reasonable. What do you think, Russell?" Judy said, placing a hand on her husband's arm. Russell stared at his daughter, his expression hard and his lips pursed. Quinn felt her breath catch in her throat, and she realized how much she needed her father to agree to this. Even underneath the bed, Sam waited to hear the answer with bated breath. Finally, Russell's eyes softened, and he let out a gruff noise.

"I don't see why not." He replied, and Quinn's face lit up, her lips splitting into a grin. She flew off the bed and towards her father, wrapping her arms around him in an unusual display of affection. A little taken aback, Russell slowly wrapped his arms around her.

"Thank you, Father." Quinn said, leaning up and kissing his cheek before moving back towards the bed. Judy smiled at the blonde girl, her hands fidgeting near her sides, and Quinn knew that her mother was anxious to be holding a glass. Quinn perched on the bed once more, and Russell opened his mouth to speak when a sneeze flew out from underneath the bed. At once, all the people in the room stiffened – Sam included. Quinn's eyes widened slightly, and she quickly let out another sneeze, blinking bashfully at her parents.

"It must be something in the air." She said sheepishly, giving them an innocent smile and making a mental note to push Sam out of her window when he showed his face again. Russell glanced skeptically at the bed before looking at Quinn, and Quinn felt her heart freeze again, and she could see her freedom slipping out of her fingertips.

"Close that window. We don't need you getting sick." He said gruffly, turning on his heel and moving towards the door. "Come along, Judy, we need to pack." Quinn let out her breath, standing up and nodding, closing her bedroom door behind her parents and waiting a few seconds before whirling around, glaring at her bedskirts.

"What were you thinking?" She hissed.

"There was a dust bunny in my nose." Sam's voice came out from under the bed, sounding absolutely apologetic and guilty. Quinn glared for a few more seconds before cracking, a smile slipping over her lips and a laugh bubbling out. Sam peeked out from underneath the bed, a crooked grin on his face.

"You want a warbler?"

"I think I'll name him Anderson."


	3. just can't wait

The next morning, Quinn awoke to the sound of her mother's voice and the feeling of her hands gently shaking her. Blinking sleepily, she looked up to see her mother smiling down at her.

"Good morning, Quinnie. Your father and I are about to leave. We'll be back in three days time, maybe even less if we are lucky. You stay here, alright? Don't go to any of the doors or the windows."

"I know, Mother." Quinn said sleepily, smiling up at the older blonde. Judy smiled back, kissing her forehead.

"I love you, Quinnie."

"I love you too, Mother." Judy smiled, brushing a piece of hair out of Quinn's face, before pulling the blankets back over her.

"Get some rest. We'll be back very soon." Judy murmured softly, moving out of Quinn's room and closing the door. She moved down the stairs, meeting her husband at the door. He nodded at her curtly, and she followed him out the door, head bowed slightly. He led her to the stables, where a few of the stable hands were waiting with horses at the ready. Russell handed their bags to Sam, who quickly tied them to the baggage horse, running his hand over her mane and slipping her a sugar cube when no one was looking.

"None of you are to enter the house." Russell said coldly, staring at each of the stable hands individually. Sam had to duck his head to hide his amused smile. The stable hands all murmured their agreement, and soon Judy was being helped onto a horse, and Russell onto his. The stable hands waited patiently, watching as the three horses trotted off, and when they were out of sight, all relaxed.

"I hope he falls into mud." One of them muttered, and after a round of laughter, they returned to their work, still chuckling at the thought of Russell Fabray falling off his horse.

Meanwhile, the preparations for the ball were in full swing at the Hummel castle, seeing as the ball was only three days away. There was food to be cooked, decorations to be made, orchestrations to be prepared, and everyone in the castle was focused and working. Well, all but one.

"Finn?" Kurt said, poking his head into the doorway of the ballroom. He found his brother leaning against one of the large windows, staring out towards the forest. When he heard his brother speak, Finn jumped, turning around and giving his younger brother a smile.

"Sorry, I was just…"

"Thinking. I know. You've been 'thinking' since yesterday. What has gotten into you?" Kurt asked, moving closer. Finn shrugged, running his fingers through his hair.

"Hey, Kurt, can I tell you something?" Kurt's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing, letting his brother know that he could. Finn glanced around as if he was afraid of someone eavesdropping, and Kurt resisted the urge to fondly roll his eyes. "I saw this girl yesterday, while I was out. She lived in this house near the forests, and she was singing, and she was beautiful, Kurt." Finn said, a smile spreading over his lips as he spoke. "I can't get her out of my head. You should have seen her, she had these eyes, they were like, hypnotic," He said softly, and Kurt pressed his lips together, not really sure if now was the time to inform his brother that he probably would not have been interested in this girl. Or any, if he were to be honest.

"Maybe she'll come to the ball?" Kurt suggested, putting a hand on his brother's arm. "Everyone in the kingdom is invited." He pointed out, and Finn perked up at the thought.

"You think so?" He asked, looking every bit like a puppy dog. Kurt let out a soft chuckle, nodding.

"I'm sure she will. Everyone in the kingdom is coming. She'll probably be there, and then you'll be reunited with your mystery girl." Finn smiled widely, obviously pleased at the thought, and Kurt smiled, proud with himself for placating his brother. "Now come on, Mother wants us to approve the menu."

"As long as that weird cold soup isn't on there, I'll like it."

"Gazpacho."

"Bless you."

Quinn sat at her vanity, brushing her hair out, humming softly to herself the song she had been singing yesterday when the prince had seen her. At the thought of the handsome boy, her lips curled up into a dreamy smile, and she closed her eyes for an instant, daydreaming about what it would be like to actually go to the ball, and dance with the prince, and for a second, she allowed herself to think about what it would be like to be a princess, a crown on her head, wearing beautiful dresses and shoes and having the ability to do whatever she felt like, because she was a princess and no one told a princess what to do. Sighing, she let the dream dissipate, not wanting to get her hopes up. She wasn't even sure if she was going to the ball, let alone even seeing the prince again. For all she knew, he was already betrothed to some girl, someone who was tiny, and brunette, with a proud attitude and a mouth to back it up. Quinn shook her head slightly, staring at herself in the mirror. You're being ridiculous, she thought, standing up and moving to her closet, grabbing a yellow cotton dress and changing into it, glancing out the window and pursing her lips. She hadn't seen Sam all day, which was odd. Normally he was in her room in the morning, and it was already mid-afternoon.

Perhaps he has more work to do today, she thought, moving out of her room and down the stairs to the kitchen, fixing herself something to eat, singing while she did so. She found it often passed the time to fill the empty space of her home with notes, loud ones and soft ones, long ones and short ones, happy ones and sad ones, notes that filled the space her parents left behind. "Perhaps getting a warbler isn't such a bad idea," she mused out loud. "Having a singing partner couldn't hurt."

Quinn filled her time with cleaning, cooking, knitting, sketching, singing, even painting at one point, attempting to recreate the picture of the warbler from the book onto a canvas. She did everything one could do in a house without stepping foot outside of it, and finally, nighttime came, and she collapsed onto her bed, fully prepared to sleep. That was, until she heard a rapping at her window. She jumped up quickly, heart pounding, thoughts of robbers and murderers and vagabonds filling her head. When the blonde saw it was only Sam, she was filled with the feeling of relief and the overwhelming urge to hit him for startling her like that. She opened her window, poking her head out.

"Hey there," Sam called, grinning widely. He held his hands behind his back, as if he were hiding something from her.

"Where have you been all day?" She called back, shifting her head to attempt to see what he was holding to no avail.

"Out. I got you a present." He replied, his grin growing wider. Quinn frowned.

"Why?"

"Your birthday's in two days, Quinn. I wasn't just going to give you nothing."

"But Sam-"

"My only request is that you come get it yourself." Sam said, looking up at her. Quinn felt her heart freeze, and she immediately began to shake her head as instinct. She couldn't go outside. She wasn't allowed. It had always been that way, and Sam knew that, he knew that, so why he kept pushing the issue Quinn didn't know. But she was torn. She wanted to leave, every fiber of her body was yearning to find what was outside the walls of her home, the home that had been so large at first but now felt more like a cage, the home that was too small for her dreams.

"Sam," she said softly, biting down on her bottom lip, uncertainty written all over her face. Sam said nothing, merely pulling the gift out from behind him. Quinn let out a soft gasp, leaning forward to get a better glimpse of it. It was a dress, one that shimmered in the soft moonlight, a light and pleasant blue, sparkling and soft and rich, one that obviously was expensive. Suddenly Quinn felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach. He had obviously spent money on the dress, a lot of money, and if Quinn refused it, she would be acting so rude…

"Please, Quinn?" Sam asked, holding up the dress higher. She bit her lip again, her glance moving between the dress to the ladder that he always used to get in her window, and suddenly, the prince's face was in her vision, handsome and inviting, and the image of freedom danced in front of her, and before she knew it, she was opening her window more, letting her feet dangle out of it. Her heart was pounding and the only thing she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears, and she cast one last glance behind her, at her room, the house that had held her safe yet captive for the past sixteen years, and then, she was climbing, down, and down, and suddenly – there was a strange sensation underneath her bare foot. She stepped off the ladder, staring down at the green underneath her. Grass. It was soft, and she had the sudden urge to lay down and let herself sleep in it, roll around in it, feel it, and before she knew it she was kneeling, her hands running through, and her vision was blurry because she was crying, but she wasn't crying because she was upset, it was because she was happy, blissful, beautifully ecstatic, because she was outside. Outside.

"I'm free," she whispered, relishing the way the words tasted on her tongue. "I'm free!" She exclaimed, letting out a laugh, standing up and spinning around, coming to a stop in front of Sam, who was grinning right back.

"You're free." He said softly, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. She knew she was crushing the dress between them, but she didn't care, she didn't care about anything much right now except for the feeling of the cool night air on her skin, the salty tears on her cheek, the boy she was hugging, and her freedom that had finally, finally, come.

"Come on. I want you to try it on." Sam said, pulling away from the hug and holding out the dress again. Quinn reached forward, fingering the material. It was delicate, soft to the touch, satin and net, a beautiful pale blue. She glanced up at him, and he smiled, gesturing towards the front door. Quinn grinned widely, moving towards the door, spinning once more before reaching for the handle. She stared at it, her smile fading. There was a sudden rush of fear, and it was as if sixteen years of imprisonment was staring her in the face. There was no rational reason why the blonde couldn't take the step forward and open the door, but there she was. There was a part of her that feared if she opened the door, her father would be waiting behind the door with a disappointed expression and a lifetime of confinement.

"You're not trapped anymore." Sam's voice came from behind her, soft and coaxing. "We'll come right back out, I promise." Quinn turned, and he gave her a soft smile, nodding encouragingly. She nodded, turning the handle slowly, stepping inside. There was no sign of her father, and with a slight smile, Quinn moved out of the doorway, allowing Sam to come inside.

"Never been in here through the front before," He muttered, and she laughed, half out of amusement at his joke and half out of relief and pure joy.

"Come on, we can go to my parents room." Quinn said, reaching for his hand.

"Why there?" Sam asked, letting her lead him up the stairs. She stood on the top stair, turning to look at him.

"You've got to have a suit, don't you?" She pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "I've read about a lot of balls, and the boys are always wearing suits. You can't go in that." She said, gesturing with her free hand to the outfit Sam was currently wearing. He glanced down, taking in the worn green vest and the blue undershirt, covered in horsehair and burrs.

"Yeah, I guess not." He mumbled, and she laughed quietly, tugging him up the stairs and into her parents' room. She hadn't been in here when her parents weren't home, as she usually had no need to. It was a spacious room that occupied most of the second floor, with a large window looking out towards the village, as opposed to the forest view Quinn's window gave her. The large closet on the right side of the room held most of Russell's clothes, and Quinn let go of Sam's hand, walking over and throwing the doors open.

"I know he's got one in the back," she muttered, stepping into the closet and pushing her way past piles of clothes, reaching towards the back and finding a crisp black suit, grinning triumphantly as she emerged with it and a white dress shirt.

"Try it on. It might be a little big, but we can work around that. I'll go in there and try this, alright?" Quinn said, laying the suit next to Sam and reaching for the dress. Sam handed it to her gently, grinning widely.

"It's going to look great." He said, waiting until she was securely in the closet and out of his line of sight before untying the vest, sliding it off along with the blue undershirt. Not really caring where they landed, he tossed them off to the side, picking up the dress shirt and carefully unbuttoning the little white buttons. If Russell knew what I was doing right now, he'd probably kill me. Sam thought with a hint of smugness. He'll never find out. He shrugged the shirt on, reveling in the feeling of the softness of the shirt against his skin, admiring the feeling for a few quick moments before buttoning it up, checking its length. The sleeves were a bit long, but he could easily roll them up. After making sure Quinn was securely in the closet, he changed into the dress pants, staring down at his legs. The black material flowed over his feet, and he sighed, reaching down and rolling those up as well. It will do. He thought, reaching for the jacket.

"So where did you get this, anyway?" Quinn's voice came floating out from behind the clothes.

"There's a woman in town, a seamstress. Her name is Shannon, she's really good at it. Practically a beast, you know…" Sam trailed off as he looked up, his eyes landing on Quinn as she stepped out of the closet, head ducked down as she looked at the dress. She looked, to put it simply, stunning. Her loose blonde curls spilled over her shoulders, and the dress hugged her skin, the blue of the dress bringing out the green in her eyes. Her hands played with the fabric of the skirt nervously.

"How do I look?" She asked quietly, looking up at Sam through her lashes.

"Beautiful." He whispered honestly, reaching out for her hand. "No prince will be able to deny you." Quinn smiled shyly, allowing Sam to spin her around, feeling the fabric of the dress against her skin, closing her eyes and allowing herself to imagine that for a moment, she was dancing with the prince, in a ballroom, completely and utterly free. When she opened her eyes, she threw her arms around Sam's neck, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered into his skin, and he chuckled, hugging her back.

"You're welcome." He murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head before pulling back. She took a step back, eyeing him carefully, pursing her lips.

"It's a bit big, I know…" Sam started, lifting up his arms and watching as the extra fabric draped over his hands. Quinn giggled, shaking her head.

"We can fix it. It's perfect." She said, a wide smile appearing on her face. "This is really happening." She whispered, everything hitting her. She was about to leave the confines of her house, escape her expansive prison, what she had been wishing and waiting and dreaming and begging for, she was about to walk out of the door with no fear of being caught, with nothing but a dream in her heart and a smile on her face and her best friend by her side, to go to a ball, to find a prince, to discover what it was like to actually live.

"Quinn, don't cry," Sam said quickly, reaching out and wiping away a tear with his thumb. Quinn let out a laugh, reaching up and touching her cheeks, discovering that they were in fact covered in tears.

"I promise I'm not upset, Sam," she said softly, bringing her other hand up to touch his hand. "I just can't wait."

After changing back into her plain yellow dress, the cotton against her skin a stark contrast from the silk of the dress, Quinn slipped on her pair of most comfortable shoes and began to walk around the house, gathering things she thought they might need and putting them in the bag Sam was carrying. Finally, she stood in the doorway, taking a second to look at the house that had become a cage. Take these broken wings and learn to fly, she sang softly, before turning, putting one hand on the doorknob and pushing, walking out of confinement and into freedom.

"We're going to have to ride horses. It's the quickest way to get into town." Sam said, slinging the bag over his shoulders and leading her towards the stable. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him, disbelief all over her face. He let out a loud laugh, slinging his arm around her shoulders and leading her towards the horses.

"It's easy, I promise." Sam reassured her, stopping in front of the stable doors and handing her the bag. "Wait here, okay?" He said, grabbing a sugar cube from a bowl on the shelf inside the door, moving down to the last stall, opening the door and greeting the dark brown horse with a soft hello, offering up the sugar cube and petting her nose, quietly slipping the blanket and saddle onto the back of the horse, tying up the reigns and leading the horse out to Quinn.

"Her name is Cocoa." He said, grabbing Quinn's hand. "Just pet her softly, right here, okay?" He said, motioning towards the bridge of the horse's nose. Warily, Quinn lifted her hand, gently placing it on the soft fur, slowly stroking it and smiling when the horse didn't buck or kick.

"Now what?" Quinn asked, looking over at Sam. He blinked before sighing, taking the bag from her and moving to the side of the horse, slinging it over and tying it securely with rope he had grabbed from the stall. He motioned for Quinn to join him, and she moved to his side, staring up at the horse.

"Now you get on."

"Get on…that?" She asked, looking between him and the saddle as if he had just fallen and hit his head. "How do you suggest I do that?" He chuckled.

"I forgot you're new to this. Do you want me to go first?" Sam asked, and she nodded slowly. With an ease that came from years of working around horses, he lifted himself up onto the horse in one graceful swoop, grinning triumphantly down at her. Reaching out with his hand, he said, "Come on up."

"I don't think so." Quinn said, shaking her head and stepping away from the horse.

"You want to get to the ball before your parents show up? Get on the horse." Sam said, putting his hand out again. Quinn shook her head again, blonde curls spinning everywhere and with a sigh, Sam leapt off the horse.

"You are getting on the horse, Quinn."

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"Oh, so now we're going to play the rich girl card? Get on the horse." Sam said, folding his arms across his chest. Quinn mimicked him, even going so far as to raise her head and put her nose towards the air. Rolling his eyes, Sam took his chance and dashed forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up. She immediately started shrieking.

"Put me down! Samuel Evans, if you care to survive another day you will put me down! I refuse to get on that beast!" Sam just chuckled, rolling his eyes and easily lifting Quinn up, setting her down on the horse and leaping up behind her, putting his arms underneath hers and grabbing the reigns.

"You are such a princess, Quinn." He snorted, snapping the reigns against the horse. The chocolate mare whinnied and began trotting forward, and Quinn was too frightened to retort with anything wittier than a whimpered, "Shut up." Sam chuckled, shaking his head one last time as they rode away from the Fabray residence, moving into town.

Two hours and one bumpy horse ride later, the two blondes had arrived into the center of town. Considering it was late in the night, most places had closed their doors for the night, and even the main market street was quiet, the only noise the occasional excited shout from a pub or an alley cat crashing into an empty pail. Sam slipped off the horse, gently grabbing the reigns and leading it down the street, leaving Quinn to clutch to the horse on her own. Finally, they came across an inn called "Em's", and were greeted by a particularly neurotic red-headed woman. She ushered them to their rooms, then immediately resumed her scrubbing of every doorknob in the inn. Exhausted, Sam and Quinn fell into their separate beds, falling asleep before their heads hit the pillow.

The next morning, Quinn awoke, sitting straight up, clutching at the sheets, before remembering where she was. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed, sinking against the pillow again. She smiled up at the ceiling, wondering what her father would think if he could see her now. Her smile faded as she realized she didn't really want him to see her right now, she wanted her adventure to last a little bit longer. A loud snore from beside her startled her, and she looked over quickly, finding Sam laying on his bed, limbs splayed, sheets in a twist, mouth open and a tiny line of drool coming out of the side of his mouth. She stifled a laugh, slipping out of the bed and finding her shoes, putting them on before quietly moving out of the room, so as not to disturb him.

After going to the bathroom to freshen up, Quinn walked down the stairs of the inn, finding herself in the main dining room. It was filled with people, mostly large, older men, who were eating while the redheaded woman from the night before served them food, wiping her hands on her apron between each table. When Quinn entered the room, they all turned to look at her. Her eyes widened slightly, and one of the men stood up, walking towards her.

"What's your name, girl?" He growled. His presence was overbearing, for he was a large man, and with the addition of the dirty furs that lined his shoulders and the scuffed leather that was his clothes, he seemed ten times larger.

"Quinn." She responded, looking straight at him. Perhaps, she thought, if she was brave enough, he would go away.

"What are you doing in a place like this?"

"I'm going to the ball." Quinn said, hoping her voice didn't give away how she felt about how close he was to her, or the rancid stench of his breath.

"All by yourself?" The man asked, a curling sneer appearing on his face, revealing teeth that needed desperate dental help.

"No, she's going with me." Quinn and the man turned to find Sam coming down the stairs, a venomous glare in his eyes, directed at the large man. In normal situations, Quinn would have laughed at the expression on Sam's face, so deathly serious, but never before in her life had she been so relieved to see him.

"Sorry, lad, didn't know she was yours," the man said, holding up his hands and backing off.

"Might care to ask next time," Sam growled, putting an arm protectively around Quinn's waist and moving so he was standing slightly in front of her. When the man had returned to his table, Sam leaned his head down so he was whispering directly into Quinn's ear.

"What do you think you're doing? You could have gotten yourself seriously hurt!" He hissed, and she looked up at him with guilt in her eyes.

"I didn't know!"

"Things are a lot different out here," he said, his tone becoming gentler. "I forgot you don't know. Just, don't leave my side, okay? I don't want you getting hurt."

After eating breakfast in their room, Sam and Quinn thanked the redheaded woman and Quinn paid her with a coin from her pocket, letting her know they would stay another night or two. They went out to the front of the inn, and then Sam turned to Quinn.

"We've got a whole day to spare, Q. What do you want to do?" The blonde pursed her lips in thought, glancing around as the people of the village went about their business. Most were marketmen, those who worked and bartered and made their living out of the street lined with kiosks filled with items that were all shades of delicious, delectable and delightful. Quinn's eyes lit up as the idea sparked in her mind, and she turned to her friend quickly.

"Can we go to a market? Oh, Sam, I've always wanted to go to one, I read about them all the time but I've never seen one in pictures even, please?" She pleaded, grasping his arm and looking from him to the villagers who walked past. Sam raised his eyebrows, and his lips quirked at the girl's awe at such simple things as a marketplace. But, he supposed, it made sense. She had lived her life in confinement with nothing but fancy items and empty rooms to keep her company (aside from himself, of course) so little things that others took for granted, such as marketplaces, were sure to pique her curiosity. He found himself nodding, and Quinn let out an excited giggle, grabbing his wrist and dragging him down the street.

They spent the rest of the morning wandering down aisle after aisle; Sam watching as Quinn poked and prodded everything she came across. Right before noon, Sam was busy bartering with a man to buy them lunch. Quinn, bored with the negotiations, wandered to an apple seller a few feet away. The woman behind the stand had short blonde hair and a blood-curdling sneer, snapping rude and witty remarks to anyone who passed. Quinn was oblivious to the woman's cruel stare, and picked up an apple, smiling before taking a bite. Instantaneously, a horrified shout came from the woman, and a terrified shriek came from Quinn. Sam whirled around to find Quinn leaning just out of reach of the woman's bony hand. With a quick apology to the man he was speaking to, the blonde ran towards his friend, grabbing her hand and tugging her along the street. From behind them, the woman shouted something about buying them a kitten and then punching them in the face, which only caused them to run a little faster.

"Don't touch anything without me, okay?" Sam asked once they were a safe distance away. Quinn nodded, too breathless to speak. After another hour or so of exploring, Sam led Quinn back towards the inn. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes, and he grinned.

"You don't want to be late for the ball, do you?" He asked, and her face lit up. Soon, she was tugging him down the street, and he let her, laughing all the while. They arrived at the inn in record time, and soon, Quinn was occupying the bathroom while Sam stumbled with the suit in the bedroom.

In the Hummel castle, Kurt had managed to put the finishing touches on his suit, tugging at the tails of his coat and adjusting his tie. Smoothing his hair down once more, Kurt gave himself a satisfied smile. He caught sight of his brother in the mirror, struggling to knot his own tie, and his smile turned sympathetic, turning and walking over to him.

"You are absolutely hopeless." He murmured affectionately, swatting Finn's hands away and tying it himself. Finn gave him a sheepish smile.

"Thanks, little bro."

"Don't call me that." Kurt said, casting him a glance before straightening his tie. Taking a step back, Kurt examined his brother with a sharp eye. Smiling with approval, he looked up at Finn. "Your mystery girl will be unable to resist you." Finn grinned, cheeks tinting pink at merely the thought of the beautiful blonde girl.

"I'm sure you'll find a girl who's just as pretty, Kurt." Finn offered with a smile. Kurt looked past his brother, pulling a smile on that was sure to look more like a grimace. He knew that he would have to tell his brother the truth he had been suspecting sooner or later, but the grin that reminded him of a loyal dog tugged on his heart.

"Finn…" Kurt began softly. Finn perked up, looking at him with an innocent smile. Kurt opened his mouth to continue speaking, but just then, a footman knocked on the door. The two brothers jumped, and turned, all thoughts of possible confessions silenced.

"Sires? The queen has requested your presence."

"Thank you." Kurt replied quietly. The footman bowed and left, and Kurt turned to Finn, smiles once more.

"Shall we?" The shorter prince asked, and Finn grinned crookedly.

"We shall."

At that same moment, Quinn slipped on her satin shoes, glancing at herself one last time in the tiny mirror in the inn bathroom, before biting her lip and moving into the room she shared with Sam. He looked up from buttoning his buttons and a wide grin spread over his lips.

"You look beautiful." He murmured, and she smiled bashfully, stepping closer to him and laughing.

"Let me help," she said, closing up the last few buttons and adjusting his lapel. "Handsome," she said approvingly, grinning at him. He returned her grin with a matching one of his own, reaching forward and hugging her tightly.

"Thank you." He whispered. Quinn let out a quiet laugh.

"Thank you." She replied softly. He smiled into her hair, letting go and putting his hand on her forearm.

"I'm sure Prince Finn will have trouble staying away from you." He said with a wink, and Quinn giggled, flushing at the memory of the handsome brunette.

"I'm sure there will be a handsome dignitary there just waiting to sweep you off your feet." Quinn teased gently. Sam chuckled, ducking his head down. There was a knock on the door, and they both turned their heads towards it. The innkeeper poked her head through the doorway with a soft smile.

"Your horse is ready." She said kindly, and Sam smiled brightly at Quinn.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

Soon, Sam was helping Quinn down off the horse just as Finn was helping Kurt up to the throne platform. Quinn took Sam's arm, and Finn sat down in his throne, on the right hand of his father, who smiled at him reassuringly. Finn returned the smile, a bit nervous, eyes flickering towards the staircase, looking for any sign of his mystery girl. Sam held out the invitation to the guards in front of the expansive entrance, and soon, they were being lined up to walk into the ball. Quinn felt nervous, anxious, and gripped onto Sam's arm as if letting go meant death. Sam gave her a reassuring squeeze, and soon, the pair were at the top of the staircase, their names were being announced, and Quinn looked around, searching for a pair of eyes that were so familiar and yet so unknown. And then, she found them.

"Kurt," Finn whispered, transfixed on the girl standing at the top of the staircase. "That's her."


	4. one step closer

Quinn clutched onto Sam's arm tightly, thankful that he was conscious enough to guide them smoothly down the stairs, pulling her aside towards a long table of refreshments. "Sam," she whispered, finally tearing her eyes away from the thrones, "It's him. He's here." Sam turned, nodding in confirmation.

"I would have been more surprised if he hadn't been. It is a ball in his honor, Quinn." Sam pointed out, and had she been any less nervous, she would have rolled her eyes or playfully nudged him. As it was, she was still gripping onto his hand, afraid of what would happen if she let go. He reached down, gently prying her fingers from his wrist.

"What if he doesn't know who I am? What if he doesn't remember?" Quinn whispered, panic evident in her voice. Sam gently cupped her cheeks, grabbing her attention.

"Quinn, listen. Even if he doesn't remember you, that's secondary to everything you've gotten to do. You're free, Quinn, even if just for a night. Don't waste tonight on worrying. Enjoy yourself." Quinn stared up at his eyes, nodding slightly. She moved forward, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, Sam."

"I love you too, Q. Now go get your prince."

Meanwhile, Finn scanned the ballroom, searching in desperation for a glimpse of those eyes again. Much to his dismay, the mysterious forest girl had disappeared into the crowd. Kurt reached over, putting a hand on Finn's arm.

"Where did she go?" He murmured softly, and Finn shrugged, looking at his brother with worry.

"She disappeared."

"She couldn't have left, she only just arrived. Once we start dancing I'm sure you'll be able to find her." As if on cue, the orchestra in the far corner began to play softly, grabbing everyone's attention. The princes looked at their parents, who smiled and nodded, gesturing towards the dance floor. Kurt and Finn rose, stepping into the crowd as they began the formation of a traditional dance.

"Remember, no worrying. Just relax." Sam said as he led Quinn to the dance floor, letting go of her once they reached the four lines. Two were composed of women, the other two of men, facing each other with nervous smiles and anxious energy. "He'll remember you." He said, squeezing her hand before disappearing into one of the lines. Quinn bit her lip, facing a young man with warm brown eyes who greeted her with a soft hello, his voice lilted with a heavy accent from a foreign land. The orchestra fell silent, the conductor lifted his baton, and the dance began.

Quinn was thankful for the few dance lessons her mother had decided to give her when she was younger, because this was one of the dances Quinn had a grasp on. It was a fairly simple dance; you stood in front of your partner, touched your palm to theirs, and walked in a circle, switching partners with the person to your left or right. It was traditionally used as the first dance of the night to break the tension by providing an opportunity for every guest to, theoretically, interact with all the other guests. Quinn stepped forward, slowly getting used to the rhythm set up by the orchestra, her hand pressing against the boy's palm. He was kind, but Quinn was distracted, her eyes searching for Finn in the crowd.

Little did she know, he was doing the exact same thing, grateful that his dancing partner, a tan brunette known across the kingdom for her brash personality, was too preoccupied with staring longingly at a bubbly blonde princess to care about where his attention was. Finn scanned the crowd, barely following the steps as he switched partners, hoping he was moving one step closer to his mystery girl.

Kurt stepped in the wrong direction, nearly tripping over his own feet, and ended up palm to palm with a blonde with gray eyes, handsome and kind. Suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to remain there for rest of the night, Kurt managed to say, "My name is Kurt." The blonde smiled, all white teeth and warmth.

"Sam." He replied, and before Kurt could respond, the music was changing, and he was being whisked away by the bubble-headed blonde from a few kingdoms over, blabbering about how her father had just declared that she would be brought several baby ducks on her birthday in a few weeks.

Sam found himself face-to-face with Quinn, who shrugged and shook her head. "I haven't seen him yet." She answered his unspoken question with pressed lips.

"Don't give up. He's here, you saw him. You're bound to run into him."

"What about you?"

"Well, I did-" The music changed, and Quinn shot Sam an apologetic look, being whisked away by the next person. Sam turned, hoping to run into the younger prince again.

The music picked up pace, and soon dances lasted mere seconds, palms touching briefly before moving to the next, and it was an interweaving of people searching for something in every face. Quinn waited, yearning for the feel of the prince's hand against her own, wishing she could see the recognition in his face. Finn watched for a swatch of blue, skirting across the floor, attached to the girl with the beautiful voice. The music sped up; Quinn dashed, Finn danced, and as the music reached its crescendo, they found themselves face to face, frozen in the middle of the dance floor. She stared up at him, hazel eyes locking onto deep brown ones, and they stopped as the music did, fingers pressed against fingers, the only thing in the world the two of them and the electric current passing through their skin.

"Hi." Finn managed to say, nervously licking his lips.

"Hi." Quinn breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from his. They stood there for a few moments, purely entranced, until the sound of applause from around them startled them out of their thoughts. The song was over, and with reluctance, Quinn let her hand fall to her side. Finn bowed, and Quinn curtsied, and he smiled slightly, one side of his mouth turning up higher than the other.

"Your Highness," a page said, appearing next to the prince. "Your mother requests your presence immediately." Finn sighed, turning back to the blonde, bowing shallowly.

"My apologies..."

"Quinn." She said quickly,

"Quinn. I will come back later to find you, if it pleases the lady?" He asked, stammering as he tried to remember proper ballroom etiquette, distracted by how beautiful her eyes were. She smiled shyly, nodding.

"It would greatly please the lady." She murmured, and he grinned.

"Awesome." The page persisted, murmuring another, "Your highness," under his breath, before Finn bowed again, smiling when Quinn giggled.

"Save a dance for me, Quinn." He said, reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles before smiling, letting go and walking away with the page. The music for the next song began, but Quinn was frozen, staring at her hand, a wide smile slipping over her lips and her skin tingling. She realized she was still standing in the middle of the room and flushed a light pink, moving to the side in search of Sam.

She didn't have to search long, as the blonde practically ran up to her, arm around her waist and hand in hers, pulling her onto the dance floor. They twirled around and she laughed at his enthusiasm, raising an eyebrow as they spun.

"You seem excited." She teased, and he grinned.

"I'm having a fantastic time, that's all." He replied, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she beamed. They continued to dance, whirling around the floor, enjoying this simple moment of freedom. The song began to change, and as Sam slowed down, someone tapped his shoulder.

"May I cut in?" Prince Finn asked, looking at Sam with a small smile, waiting for an answer. Sam grinned, letting go of Quinn and stepping aside.

"Of course, your Highness." The blonde said, winking at a blushing Quinn before disappearing into the crowd of dancers. Finn turned to Quinn, nervously holding out his hand. Gently, she placed her fingers on top of his, and his hand found a place on her waist. Her other hand fluttered to his shoulder, and slowly they began to move. He glanced down at their feet every few seconds, his eyes shifting between their feet and Quinn's face. She smiled softly.

"I've never danced with anyone better before." She said quietly, his nervousness written in the concentration lines running through his forehead. Finn smiled, lighting up his face, and from that moment on, they were comfortable. He loosened up, relaxed his tense shoulders, and soon they were whirling around the dance floor, oblivious to everything but each other.

"I saw you," he blurted out, nervously glancing down at his feet again. "In the forest. You were singing." Quinn blushed, smiling and nodding.

"And I saw you. I had no idea who you were..." She admitted, and he glanced back up at her.

"Really?" She laughed, and he decided it sounded like a brook, traveling over stones. Happy. Calm. Beautiful.

"Not everyone in the kingdom knows who you are, Prince Finn." She said, and he grinned sheepishly, laughing at himself. He didn't admit it out loud, but he was grateful. She hadn't come here with the intention to marry him because he was a prince. She had come here without knowing who he was. She had come to find out. And he was so glad she had.

They were on their fifth or sixth rotation around the ballroom floor (honestly neither of them had been keeping track, it could very well have been the third or thirteenth), when Quinn caught sight of the large clock mounted on the farther wall. Finn turned to follow her line of sight and sighed when he realized how late it was. They had quite literally danced the night away, and as the orchestra began to quiet, he slowed down, stopping near the large staircase that marked the entrance to the ballroom. Sam, who was waiting near one of the large pillars, pushed off the stone and walked up to her, relief on his face.

"There you are! I thought you had been kidnapped or something worse-" He cut himself off when he noticed the prince, quickly bowing and dropping his head. "Sorry, your Highness." He mumbled, and Finn chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder.

"It's okay. I'm glad you're keeping her safe." Sam glanced up and raised an eyebrow, relaxing when he saw the sincerity on the prince's face. He smiled, nodding.

"It's my job." He said, glancing over at Quinn, who returned his smile with a warm one of her own. And it was true. That's how things were, how they always had been. How they probably always would be. Sam was her protector, from the men in the inn to the captivity of her home to herself, and her fears and insecurities. He would always be there, and he was here now, reaching for her hand and whispering something about how they would have to get back to the inn quickly before the streets got too dangerous with drunkards and ruffians. She turned to Finn, who bowed shallowly. She returned it with a curtsy and a smile, and he bid her goodnight, pressing a final kiss to her knuckles, light as air.

Just as Sam and Quinn were walking up the staircase, she hesitated, squeezing his wrist. "Just a second," she said, flying down the staircase and up to Finn, leaning forward on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"Meet me in the front of the castle tomorrow morning." He smiled his lopsided smile she was already so fond of as he nodded, a little stunned. She smiled brightly, heart pounding at her boldness, as she flew back to Sam, looping her arm through his and chattering about the night. Sam was too amused to comment, letting her rattle on and on about how absolutely wonderful freedom was.


	5. now's your moment

Early the next morning, the sunlight streamed through the dirty window of the inn, casting rays across Quinn's face. She stirred, emerging from a wonderful dream starring a prince with a handsome face and several dances across a marble floor. As she sat up, rubbing her eyes sleepily, she gathered her surroundings and was unable to stop the large smile from splitting across her face. It hadn't been a dream. It was real. She had escaped from her home with Sam, who was sleeping happily, a tiny line of drool coming out from his mouth, and had traveled into the kingdom. She had danced with the prince, and - and had asked him to meet her in front of the castle this morning.

Quinn's cheeks heated up, flushed a bright pink as she remembered her daring request, and how he had silently agreed. She slid out of bed, moving to the tiny bathroom, quickly splashing water on her face and combing out her curls, letting her hair float around her shoulders in gentle waves. Coming out and changing into the light pink dress she had packed, she leaned over Sam, the cotton of her dress pressing against her legs as she kissed his temple softly. She rummaged in her bag, quickly finding a sheet of paper and printing a note, leaving it on the table near her bag.

Sam,

I've gone out with Finn. I'm sure he'll take good care of me. Don't worry. I love you, and I'll be back soon!

-Quinn

Satisfied, Quinn stepped out of the room, sneaking down the stairs and dashing out of the inn, grateful that none of the brutes from yesterday chose to rise this early. She took a moment to stand outside the inn, just inhaling the fresh air and feeling the warm breeze slide along her skin, ruffling her hair and getting a giggle out of her. She made her way towards the castle, her nerves twisting her stomach with every step. She couldn't believe she was on her way to meet the prince. Everything was happening so fast, it was a whirlwind of adventure and she wouldn't have had it any other way. If only Father could see me now…she thought, a pleased smirk appearing on her face.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Finn was busy changing into his daily clothes, leaving the suits and silks in the closet, preferring his daily hunting wear. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, staring at himself in the mirror for a minute, collecting his thoughts and calming his nerves. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous - he was a prince, for one thing, he should have the confidence of ten men. But there was something about this girl that made things different. Perhaps it was the way she treated him differently. Around her, he didn't feel like a prince. He felt like a person. Smiling, Finn ducked his head down, turning to leave the bathroom, opening the door - and running straight into Kurt.

"Finn? What are you doing up so early?" Kurt asked, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. Finn quickly scrambled for an answer, wondering if saying that he was hungry for an early breakfast was plausible, or maybe he should say that their mom had called him earlier, and before he could stop himself, he stammered out, "I woke up to eat Mom for breakfast?" Kurt's other eyebrow shot up, and Finn sighed in defeat.

"I'm going out." He said, attempting to step past his brother, who mirrored his movements, eyebrows still raised, expecting an explanation.

"Is there a reason you spent ten minutes getting ready?"

"You spend longer than that." Kurt sighed.

"Yes, Finn, I do, but that's because I'm me, and you're you, and the kingdom is lucky if you spend ten seconds."

"Why are you blocking me? I have to go."

"Meet someone?"

"Yeah, and if I don't go out there now, she's going to think I'm rude." Kurt let out a noise of triumph, and Finn groaned, leaning back and sighing. Kurt folded his arms, staring at his brother, waiting for an explanation.

"Please don't tell Mother or Father, Kurt, they'll kill me." Finn said finally, looking at his brother with pleading eyes. Kurt frowned slightly.

"Who are you going out with?" He asked, heartbeats racing as he considered the possibilities. He knew why he was afraid to pursue those he was interested in, but he highly doubted Finn was having the same problems. Finn shifted his weight, mumbling something incoherent. Kurt raised his eyebrows, and Finn exhaled.

"I'm going to meet Quinn, the girl I was telling you about."

"The forest girl?" Kurt asked, a little skeptical.

"Yes. And she might just be some commoner to you, but she's not like that for me. She's beautiful, yeah, but…but she's more than that." Finn said, struggling to find the words to describe what he was feeling. Kurt tilted his head, examining his brother's face. Finn glanced up at Kurt, pleading in his eyes. "She's different. She looks at me like I'm a person, not just a crown, and…I like that." Kurt's face softened, and he sighed, reaching up and placing his hand on Finn's forearm.

"I'll tell Mother and Father you went hunting to clear your head, and it looked like you wouldn't be home until sunset." Kurt said, and Finn frowned a little, confusion wrinkling his forehead, before grinning, pulling Kurt into a hug.

"I owe you a huge favor, Kurt, you're the best brother ever," Finn rambled, and Kurt smiled slightly, hugging his brother back before carefully extracting himself from Finn's arms, gently nudging him in the direction of the door.

"I know, I know. Now go, before you're late or someone sees you." Finn gave Kurt one last bright, face-lighting grin before turning, practically dashing down the hallway and leaving Kurt alone, smiling softly as he shook his head affectionately, watching his brother run down the hall, clumsily make a left turn, and disappear out of his sight.

Quinn hesitated at the edge of the castle, unsure if she should go any closer. It wasn't as if she could waltz up to the guard's and tell them she was there to see the prince. They would think she was touched in the head and drag her away. She was just about to turn around and run back to the inn when the prince emerged from the castle gates, talking to the guards casually. She ducked behind a tree, heart pounding, unsure if she really wasn't touched in the head. What had she been thinking, inviting the prince to spend a day with her? What would they discuss? What would they do? She was a commoner, an ordinary girl who had spent her entire life trapped in a cage with expansive rooms and restrictive rules, and he was a prince who had his life laid out for him on a silver platter. They were as different as a hawk and a handsaw, and Quinn was starting to feel like this was a horrible mistake when the prince walked past her hiding spot, a half-smile on his face as he glanced around in search for – in search for her. She bit her lip, throwing caution to the wind, and stepped out from behind the tree, a few feet behind him.

"Hi," she said softly, and he whirled around, grin lighting up his face when he saw her. Her cheeks flushed and her heart pounded and she stared into his eyes, molten gold and warm. He stepped towards her, hesitation lacing his movements, and before he could stop himself, he was bowing shallowly, glancing up at her, his smile softened.

"Hi." He replied. She immediately curtsied, dropping her eyes, and he chuckled.

"You don't have to do that." She glanced up, standing up straight, and he smiled comfortingly. "For today, I'm not a prince. I'm just a guy, spending the day with a beautiful lady." He held his hand out to her, and Quinn felt as if her cheeks were on fire. Timidly, she nodded, gently placing her hand in his. Finn wasn't sure if this was how things were supposed to go, but it felt as if sparks were flying through his skin, radiating from where her palm touched his. On instinct, he let his fingers lace through hers, and was pleasantly surprised to find that their fingers fit together like they were made for each other.

Back at the inn, Sam stirred as the sun shone in through the window, landing directly on his face. Letting out a muffled groan, he rolled over, slowly sitting up as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his hair out of his face. "I guess we have to go home today," he mumbled, glancing over at the bed where Quinn was – wasn't. Wasn't. He let out a wordless shout, throwing the blankets off, the sleep cast from his eyes as his heart pounded, thundering in his chest. He scrambled around, his eyes landing on a sheet of paper near his bed. He grabbed it, reading the words and feeling his fear grow.

"Quinn, were you hit by a tree branch this morning?" He muttered, reaching for his shirt. "Your parents are coming home today!" He quickly got dressed, sliding his fingers through his hair, the dusty haze of his dream involving a prince with soft hands and eyes that seemed to shift colors, blue and then green and then hazel and back again, crinkled at the edges with a smile, drifting away from him as he stared at himself in the dirty mirror. The faint feeling of warm, soft hands pressed against his pulsed in his palms and he shook his head, attempting to focus.

"I swear, Q, when I find you, I will scold you from here until the end of our days," Sam muttered, pushing away from the mirror and down the stairs. He paid the redhead with a couple of gold coins, which she promptly began scrubbing with her apron, thanking him with a tight smile. He returned it, running out to the stables and leaping onto his horse, the note still clutched in his hands. As he rode through the streets, he shook his head in disbelief. Quinn, he thought, he better be worth it.

Finn turned to Quinn as they neared the edge of the marketplace, pausing their walk momentarily. "I thought you might like to see our plaza," he said, almost nervously. "It's usually very busy this time of year, and I wanted to show you my favorite parts about it." She smiled softly, touched that he would share something obviously special to him with her, and she nodded in reply, unable to find words to properly express what she wanted to say. He grinned, one side of his mouth curling higher than the other, and he let out a breath of relief.

"Awesome. Come, then, the festivities await!" He announced with a face-lighting grin, and Quinn couldn't stop the giggles that bubbled past her lips as he happily tugged her toward the plaza. When they reached the center of the bustling marketplace, Quinn's eyes widened, heart pounding as she took everything in. Her hair flew behind her as she darted from cart to cart, leaving a chuckling Finn to follow after her. When a couple of young girls ran over to her, tugging on her dress sleeve and asking if they could play with her hair, she looked up at Finn, who smiled and nodded, motioning with his hands to go ahead. She sank down near a fountain, laughing with the girls as they began braiding her hair, weaving flowers between strands. Finn stood back and watched, a fond smile drifting onto his face as Quinn picked one of the smaller girls up, touching her nose lightly with her index finger when they had finished. The girl giggled, wriggling as Quinn put her down, twirling to admire their handiwork.

"She's a keeper," a voice from behind him startled Finn out of his thoughts, and he turned, eyes landing on a boy who looked a couple years younger than him, hair twisted into what looked like tiny, thick braids that fell around his face. In his nose glinted a bit of silver, and peeking out from underneath his shirt was what looked like script, printed in ink on his skin. His feet were bare, and his lips were quirked in amusement at Finn's head, shaking quickly.

"Oh, no, she's – we're – um," the boy laughed, giving Finn a knowing smile.

"Right." He said, raising his eyebrows as he glanced over at Quinn. "Well, I'd work on that, if I were you. Girls like that don't show up every day." He waved the girls over, shouting, "Come on, Mom's waiting!" The little girls scampered over, waving goodbye to Quinn as they left with their brother, who cast one last pointed look at Finn before leading his little sisters away. Finn stared after him, forehead wrinkled slightly.

"I didn't know people were so kind." Quinn's voice brought Finn out of his thoughts, and he turned towards her, stunned at what he saw. Her golden hair was twisted into an elegant braid, a crown of flowers framing her forehead, her cheeks aglow from laughter, the light shade of pink matching her dress. He blinked, and she immediately got a worried look, lines appearing between her eyebrows.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Uh, no, no. You…you look good. I mean, you did before, but you do now too, and…hey, do you like cupcakes?" He asked, eyes scanning around for a distraction from his failure with words, landing on the stall of a man with dark brown skin, yelling at people with a thick accent to buy his cupcakes, which would serve as delicious treats and protection from the king of the Oriental vampires.

"Cupcakes?" Quinn asked, the line deepening as she furrowed her eyebrows together in confusion. Finn raised his eyebrows.

"You've never had cupcakes?" Quinn shook her head.

"My mother wasn't the best at baking, and my father considered sweets frivolous." She explained sheepishly, and he grinned, squeezing her hand.

"Nothing is frivolous today. Wait here, okay?" He said, and she nodded, eyes wide as she watched him walk over to the cupcake stand, a dreamy smile drifting over her lips. It felt like she was in a dream, that this day was nothing but a figment of her imagination from one chance encounter and too many books, but then Finn would brush against her or let his fingers drift against hers, and she knew she couldn't be dreaming because the current that ran through her couldn't be imaginary.

Finn tossed the man a couple of gold coins, taking the two cupcakes and walking back towards Quinn, unable to wipe the smile off his face. There was something in the way she seemed so comfortable with him, a stark contrast to the stiff and shallow curtsies and sirs he was used to from other girls. Everyone seemed to walk around him so carefully, it made him nervous that he was one misstep away from breaking something. But with Quinn, things were different. It was like he could breathe, move as freely as he pleased, and there wouldn't be any negative consequences. He reached out, handing the pink frosted cupcake to her, watching her face with a smile as she took it, examining it with a tiny frown, eyebrows knitting together.

"How do you eat it?" He let out a laugh, and she looked up at him, eyebrows raised indignantly.

"I'm being serious!" Finn tried to control his laughter, but failed miserably, the blush in her cheeks and attempt at looking furious not helping him. Managing to get hold onto his chuckles for a couple of seconds, he held up his cupcake, lifting his eyebrows.

"Like this." He said, taking a bite and looking over at her, watching with a smile as she brought the cupcake to her lips, darting forward and taking a cautious bite, frosting smeared across her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a happy hum, a giggle bubbling up in her chest and erupting from her lips, her eyes flying open as she stared at the cupcake, and then at Finn.

"It's delicious!" She exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement, her cheeks glowing a light pink, tongue darting out to lick at her lips, capturing the frosting that lingered around her mouth. Finn smiled, something stirring in his chest as he looked at Quinn, watching as she swirled a finger in the frosting, giggling as she brought it to her mouth, wrinkling her nose with pure delight. She glanced up at him, and he realized he was staring, dropping his eyes down to his cupcake and attempting to stop the thundering in his chest, certain she could hear his heart beating.

Sam slipped around the side of the castle, nerves on edge as he crept along the stone wall. "I'm going to kill Quinn when I find her," he muttered, peeking around the corner, letting out a breath when he realized the guards were shifting duties. It gave him a chance to slip inside, and he took it, darting as fast as he could inside the castle, not stopping until he was hidden in a cranny filled with only shadows and the sound of his breathing. He counted to twenty, poking his head out before walking up the stairs, his fingers brushing along the stones, bumpy and rough. He looked around corners, hissing Quinn's name, wishing she would just appear so he could grab her hand and chastise her on the ride home, knowing that both of their lives weren't hanging in the balance every second she wasn't going back. He understood that she wanted to experience as much as she could, and he didn't begrudge her the want to spend the day with the prince, but he also didn't want to return to an enraged Russell Fabray. Sam enjoyed having his head connected to his neck, thank you very much.

Turning the corner and coming face to face with lavish double doors, golden swirls lacing together to create an ivy pattern that looked almost real, the blonde reached forward, pushing the door open and stepping into the largest collection of books he had ever seen.

The walls were filled with volumes, spines worn and newly bound alike pressed together, literary pages kissing one another in a cacophony of words and learning and opportunities that spiraled high above Sam's head, sending him staggering into the middle of the room, a wide smile spread over his lips. Quinn had always yearned for books, and one of Sam's favorite things was presenting her with a new one, watching as he face lit up and she devoured it in less than a day, gushing about it for weeks. There would be no better way to get her to come with him faster than to tempt her with a new book. His fingers brushed against the bound leather, head tilted as he examined the titles. Heart, Sam thought, reading the titles of the books to himself. Michael? The First Time? What do these royals write? He was about to give up, all of the books sounding absolutely ridiculous, when another book caught his eye.

"History, a History." Sam muttered, grabbing the particularly thick book and flipping it open, eyes scanning over the pages. It was a book on the history of the land, each kingdom getting its own section. Sam's fingers brushed the pages, looking at the section on Mila, his home kingdom. He smiled when he came across a picture of the royal family, the pad of his fingertip brushing over the young face of Prince Kurt. He was just about to turn the page, entering the section on the kingdom of Marcel, when loud footsteps came from outside the door. Sam barely had time to shove the book into his bag and duck behind the curtains that dusted the floor a few feet away when the door swung open. From his position, he could see who had entered, but luckily, it didn't seem like they could see him.

Prince Kurt was the first person to enter his line of sight, and Sam was unable to control the twisting of his stomach or the smile that threatened to split across his lips. The prince looked upset, wrinkles lining his otherwise smooth skin, eyes shadowed with annoyance. Sam frowned, fingers gripping the fabric of the curtain, ready to jump out and soothe Kurt, when another person entered the room. Sam's eyes took in his confident stance, cocky smirk, and raised eyebrows, and his skin crawled, already sick of whomever this guy was.

"Hummel, listen," the guy drawled, walking up behind Kurt and reaching for his wrist. Kurt drew his hand away quickly, not even glancing over his shoulder, keeping his eyes stubbornly ahead. "You know your parents wouldn't mind if you chose me as your suitor,"

"For that to happen, Sebastian," Kurt snapped, whirling around and facing the duke. Sam couldn't see his face, but his muscles tensed, ready to step out despite the consequences it would bear, every nerve bristling as he watched. "I would have to select you first. And despite what you've deluded yourself into thinking, I would never select you, even if the kingdom depended on it." Sebastian tsked, stepping closer. Kurt stiffened, but made no other move to show his displeasure. Sam's fingers tightened, clenching the curtain in his fist, gritting his teeth together. His head swirled and his blood rushed through his ears, blocking everything out except the way Sebastian's fingers trailed down Kurt's arms, circling around his wrist as the duke stepped behind the prince, hissing something into his ear.

"Leave him alone." Two heads snapped toward the window, but none were so shocked as Sam himself, who couldn't believe the words had left his mouth. He stood in front of the curtain now, regaining his composure quickly as he glared at Sebastian, who raised his eyebrows but let Kurt go.

"I didn't realize the sweet prince was spoken for." Sebastian drawled, his eyes dragging over Sam, a smirk appearing on his lips. "If I had known he was someone else's-"

"He's not. He's not a piece of property, he's a person." Sam growled, taking a step towards the older brunette, anger flushing through his cheeks and vibrating through his skin, fingernails digging into his skin, the sharp sting the only thing keeping him from flying across the room and knocking the duke out with one solid punch. "And I think he has spoken enough for himself." Sebastian raised his hands, taking a step back.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't realize he needed such quick defense." He took another step towards the door, pausing only to cast a wink at Kurt over his shoulder before exiting the library, leaving the prince and the stable boy alone. Sam swallowed, and then remembering his manners, knelt on the floor, bowing his head in respect.

"I'm sorry, your Highness, forgive me my rudeness, it looked like you needed some assistance – not that you're weak, I wasn't trying to imply that, it just seemed as though you didn't want him to stay and he wasn't understanding – oh, gods, you didn't want him to stay, did you?"

"You're Sam." At the sound of his name, the blonde looked up, unable to stop a small smile from creeping onto the edges of his lips, the way Kurt made his voice sound like a beautiful thing ceasing all his rambling.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You don't have to call me that. That's what people call my father. You can call me Kurt."

"Yes, your – Kurt." Kurt smiled slightly, the sound of being this boy's Kurt not as repulsive as being anyone else's. He quickly banished that thought, holding out a hand.

"That's better." He replied, watching as Sam hesitantly slid his hand into Kurt's, the blonde's rough palm familiar and new, calluses scratching against the royal smooth skin of his own hand, staring with wonder at the way it seemed to almost spark, something crackling under his skin, electrifying his nerve endings and lighting up his eyes and causing him to pull away as soon as Sam was back on his feet, hand still tingling with the imprint of Sam's. "You were at the dance," Kurt finally said, looking up at Sam, letting his hand fall to his side. Sam grinned crookedly, nodding.

"Yeah, I was there with my friend, Quinn." As her name fell from his lips, Sam remembered why he has risked his neck sneaking into the palace in the first place, and all the worry that had dissipated with the prince's appearance returned, the seemingly inevitable wrath of Russell Fabray looming over him like a storm cloud, thundering and dangerous. "You haven't seen her, have you? About this tall, blonde hair, really sweet?" Sam asked quickly, motioning near his chin to demonstrate her height, heart pounding. Kurt frowned slightly, confused by Sam's sudden change of topic and demeanor.

"Yes, I believe so. I didn't see her myself, but Finn was going to meet her. I'm sure he's taking her to the marketplace. It's where a lot of people would be today." Kurt replied.

"Why?" Sam asked, momentarily distracted.

"The lighting of the lanterns. It's a big tradition for the kingdom of Marcel, but our people enjoy watching it was well." Kurt answered. Sam frowned, before shaking his head. Focus!

"Is everything alright?" Kurt asked slowly, and Sam let out a frustrated sigh as he darted toward the window.

"I have to go find her, please don't think I'm rude," Sam said quickly over his shoulder, dashing onto the windowsill, hesitating before glancing over at his shoulder, flashing a warm smile at a flustered Kurt.

"Wait!" Kurt shouted, taking a step toward Sam, unsure of why his hand was reaching for the blonde so eagerly. Sam paused, raising an eyebrow, perched on the edge of the window, as Kurt let his hand fall, so many things clamoring at the tip of his tongue to be released.

"Thank you," he said instead, bowing his head slightly. Sam smiled, dipping his head down.

"Anything for you," he murmured, giving the prince another half-smile before disappearing out the window, leaving Kurt alone with his thoughts and fluttering heartbeats, hand clutched to his chest, dreamy smile dancing across his lips.

Quinn giggled as the townsman spun her, the musicians playing a jaunty tune that had the entire plaza spinning around, laughing and clapping and cheering along, linked arms and replicating the dance at the beginning of the ball, but faster, less formal, closer. She spotted Finn across the circle, grinning widely at him as they began to make their way toward each other, his hand sliding to the small of her back familiar and warm, his laugh infectious, sending sparks up her spine from where his hand rested to where his breath tickled against her forehead, his smile large and relaxed as he beamed at her. She couldn't help but respond in kind, her smile almost as big as his, laughing as they twirled. When the music came to an end and they stood in the middle of the plaza, the crowd burst into applause, happy hugs and handshakes and claps on the back for all. Quinn smiled, standing near Finn's side, gazing out among the people who were so excited to just be alive.

They must know, she mused, how lucky they are to be alive. Although she knew that the beginning of her life was far from death, being trapped in a house-shaped cage was close enough to it. Being out here, in the fresh air, surrounded by pleasant people and scents, dangling fingers threatening to intertwine with a boy who was all she ever dreamed of, was heaven. I don't know why Father said the outside was dangerous, Quinn thought, glancing up at Finn and allowing a smile to drift across her lips. I think it's wonderful.

Finn glanced down at Quinn, giving her a gentle smile, opening his mouth to say something but cut off by the feeling of something sprinkling on the back of his neck. Glancing up, he realized that while they were dancing, rain clouds had drifted over the kingdom, releasing a light drizzle over the people in the plaza. While most just laughed and continued about their business, Quinn stared up at the sky, eyes wide in awe.

Quinn took a step away from Finn, moving toward the center of the plaza, standing in the middle of the bright yellow sun that was engraved in the stones, hands lifting by her side. She had seen rainstorms from her window, the water tapping out rhythms against her window and thunder shaking the glass, but nothing like this. This was a gentle caress, the drops falling lightly against her face, like small kisses from the sky, splashing against her face and hair. She let out a breathy laugh, spinning in a circle as the rain continued to fall, amazed by the wonders the outside world held. The rain she had felt on her fingertips once upon a time was nothing compared to the downpour that was happening now, coating her skin in a layer of water, trickling down her arms and cheeks, tickling her as it went, causing giggles to erupt from her lips as she stared up at the sky, amazed by the wonders it held. It had the power to light and to bring darkness, to be beautiful and terrifying, and gave life to those who needed it, and now it was raining, but not hard like she was used to, light and airy, like it was an old friend who had come back for a visit.

Finn stood a couple feet away, watching the blonde with a foolish smile on his face. She was beautiful – it was obvious from the first time he saw her, but as the day went on he realized her beauty far surpassed her physical appearance. It was in the little things, the way she laughed, or how her eyes crinkled, or how she shied away from closed and tight spaces but reveled in open ones, unafraid to let her fingers almost tangle with his or start a dance with a stranger, or how she seemed so wise and yet could be entertained and awe-struck by something as simple as a drizzle. "You act as though you've never seen a drizzle before." He said, pushing off from the pillar he was leaning against and walking toward her. She turned, her hair gliding behind her, a smile on her face, cheeks rosy and glowing.

"I haven't." Quinn replied, biting her lip when the words left her lips, glancing up as he furrowed his brow, confusion darkening his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Quinn inhaled, eyes dropping down to her hands, lacing her fingers together nervously.

"My parents have always been very protective of me." Quinn started, beginning to explain everything, from how her father had forbidden her to leave the house from a young age, to how Sam was her only friend, and how sneaking out was the first time she had stepped foot on something that wasn't the wooden floors of her home. "So you see, this is all new to me." She concluded, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. "I hope this isn't too much to take in." Finn chuckled, smiling reassuringly.

"Not at all." A drop of rain fell from her hair onto her cheekbone, and without hesitation, Finn stepped closer to her, reaching up and brushing his thumb across her skin, wiping the water away. He didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting his thumb drag across her cheek again, eyes focused on her warm glow, almost missing her quiet intake of breath. Her eyes darted up to his, and the world slowly melted away, as his hand froze, gently cradling her face, the pink and purple hues of sunset casting a shadow across her face, lighting her eyes and illuminating the crease her teeth had left in her lip, and her eyes dropped down a little and he was leaning in and then – Quinn was jostled, a young boy running past them accidentally running into her. She stumbled a little, hands pressing against Finn's chest, his hand falling to her shoulder to steady her.

"Sorry, lady!" The kid shouted over his shoulder, running to join a large group of people massing near the shore of the lake a handful of yards away. Quinn smiled shyly at Finn, regaining her balance and taking a step back, cheeks furiously flushing. Finn scratched the back of his neck, heat rushing to his face as he let out a sheepish chuckle, ducking his head to look at his shoes, finding a sudden interest in the scuffed leather.

"What is happening?" The sound of Quinn's voice brought him out of his stupor, Finn glancing up and following her sightline, the crowd milling near the lake causing him to nod in understanding.

"It's the lifting of the lanterns." He explained, turning back to Quinn. When her expression made it obvious that she didn't understand what he was saying, he smiled, shaking his head.

"Right. Sorry. Every year the king of Marcel lifts a lantern to honor the birthday of his missing daughter, Lucy. The rest of his kingdom does it too, and although it's kind of sad, it's also really pretty. A lot of people come to watch it here because it's got a great view." He paused, a smirk sliding across his lips. "Of course, I can always get us a better view, if you'd like?" Her eyes lit up, and he took that as a yes.


	6. blinking in the starlight

Quinn clung to the front of the boat, holding on to the wood tightly as she stared up at the sky, Finn smiling softly as he rowed the boat out into the middle of the lake, letting the oars fall back in the boat once they were far out enough that she could get a good look at the lanterns. She bit her lip, sinking down into her seat.

"What's the matter?" Finn asked quickly, reaching across for her hand, careful not to jostle the boat. Quinn leaned forward, taking his hand, unabashed by who he was supposed to be and the title he carried. He was a prince, yes, formidable with the weight of a kingdom resting on his shoulders, but today she saw he was more than a crown. He was a person who enjoyed cupcakes, preferred the outdoor scent of a forest to the stone walls and damp feel of the castle, whose hands felt rough, the pads sticking to her skin in a comforting manner, who laughed at the smallest things and who lit up when he smiled, and he was a person who enjoyed her company.

"I'm afraid," she admitted. "I've wanted this freedom my entire life. It's all I've ever dreamed of, ever yearned for, and it's been amazing so far, but…what if this is it? What if this is all I ever get?"

Finn smiled, shifting his hand so their fingers were intertwined. "We'll just have to make sure that this isn't all you get." The corners of her lips curled, moving slowly upwards as she took in the full meaning of his sentence. His lips quirked, forming the half-smile that had become so familiar to her through the course of the day, and he squeezed her hand, a silent message to let her know he meant what he had said.

Finn had heard of love at first sight as a child. It was in all the storybooks his mother used to read to him and Kurt, but Finn had always been skeptical. He had met hundreds of girls, princesses and duchesses and ladies his parents hoped would be the one he would want to marry, but after each girl had curtsied and left the room, Finn wondered if there was something wrong with him. Maybe he wasn't meant to get married. There was no connection with any of them, none of the sparks and fireworks that the books had always described.

But with Quinn, things were different. From the moment he saw her, singing in her window, he was enchanted. He was drawn to her, like something was tugging him from across the kingdom, pulling on his hands and feet and heart, making sure he found her. Ensuring that the first time he saw her, he would feel that leap in his stomach, the drop in his chest, the tell-tale signs that guaranteed love at first sight. She was stunning, yes, but there was so much more, and Finn suddenly understood what the books spoke about. Sitting here, far away from his troubles, from the diplomacies and the laws and etiquette lessons, out here, where the world allowed him to breathe and lifted weights off his shoulders, he realized that love at first sight was more than just seeing someone. It was about feeling something, deep inside you, something that had been lying dormant for a long time, stirring and coming to life when you came in contact with the person you were meant to spend your entire life with. It was discovering your missing half when you didn't even realize what you were missing. It was looking at someone and knowing there was no one else whose eyes sparkled just so, or whose laugh sounded like a brook, or whose soft hand in yours made all the spaces disappear perfectly. It was speaking to someone for a day and knowing them for a lifetime, it was revealing parts of yourself you didn't know where there, it was falling in love with a girl who danced in the rain and looked at you like you held the sun in your hand, and knowing you would do anything for them. It was falling in love with Quinn.

"I-"

"Quinn-" They laughed, pink tinting their cheeks as they ducked their heads in unison. The sun had slipped behind the horizon, leaving them in the middle of the peaceful lake, the purple glow of the sky casting shadows across their faces.

"Go ahead," Finn said, motioning for her to continue.

"I wanted to say thank you." Quinn began, looking at their hands and back up at him. "Even if this is the last day I spend out in this world…I'm glad that I spent it with you." She smiled shyly at him, the warm glow of his eyes making her feel like she was finally home.

"Quinn, I…oh," Finn trailed off, his eyes flittering upwards, beyond her head, where a lone lantern lifted into the sky. Quinn turned quickly, scrambling to the front of the boat, watching as the pink and yellow light radiated from the lantern, casting a glow on the space around it. Quinn let out a breath, and suddenly, hundreds of lanterns lifted into the air, lighting everything in hues of pink, orange, and yellow, making everything look soft and beautiful. Something in Quinn twisted, yearning for the source of the lanterns, as if they were carrying more than light. As if they were carrying a message only she was supposed to receive. As if they were calling her home.

"They're beautiful," she whispered, eyes wide in awe. The sky was lit with what appeared to be thousands of glowing stars, each one beautiful and bright, hovering in the sky like small beacons, guiding a path toward heaven. Finn cleared his throat, and Quinn turned to find him holding two lanterns, a smile on his face, illuminated.

"I thought you might like one." He said, holding it out to her. Gently, Quinn let it drift onto her fingertips, letting out a quiet, amazed laugh as she lifted it into the sky, following it with her eyes, nearly losing her balance as she leaned back to watch it join its brethren, lighting the way to the skies. She glanced back down, meaning to say something, anything to express her gratitude, but instead she caught Finn staring at her, eyes flickering over her face as if he intended to commit it to memory. Quinn's cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head shyly, but then he was sliding forward, and his hand pressed against her cheek, gently, as if he was cradling the most fragile jewel in the world. She looked up at him, and his eyes searched hers, looking for the answer to his unspoken question. Her nod was nearly imperceptible, but she was sure he could make out the confirmation in the beating of her heart, racing underneath his fingers. He leaned in, slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast he might shatter her, or the atmosphere, or his courage, and her heartbeat raced like a hummingbird's, growing faster and faster until finally, his lips pressed against hers.

It was like nothing Quinn had ever felt before. She had read thousands of books with a story of romance, she had even tried kissing Sam once in their childhood, but nothing could have prepared her for this. It was like she was on fire, but a comfortable burn, lighting something inside her she didn't know was there, sparks setting off from his lips to hers, traveling through her skin and every nerve ending in her body. It was more than lighting up feeling, it was lighting up realizations. It was discovering that this is what she had been waiting for, this feeling, this hand pressed against her cheek, these lips kissing hers. It was finding out that life was built for two, that she was incomplete, restless and stirring to find her other half, and finding him here, in a boat in the middle of the lake, surrounded by lanterns that swirled and twisted, casting shadows and light across their faces. It was committing the feel of his thumb stroking across her cheekbone, the way his laugh bubbled around them, how his smile could light up his face with only a quirk on his lips. It was realizing that no matter what happened after, she would always have this moment, this feeling, this person eternally connected to her. It was falling in love with Finn.

The kiss had only lasted a handful of seconds, but its effect would span lifetimes, and as Finn pulled away slowly, everything he had been looking for was located in the glow of Quinn's eyes. He smiled sheepishly, letting his hand fall from her face, and she let out a quiet, breathless laugh, grateful for the rosy hues of the lanterns covering up her blush.

The boat ride back was quiet, but a comfortable silence, when everything that needs to be said can be communicated through the squeezing of a hand, or the flicker of a smile. When they pulled up to the dock, Finn helped Quinn out, holding her hand a bit longer than necessary. "Stay here," he instructed. "I'll be right back, I've got to pay for the boat." He dipped down, kissing her again just because he could, the giddy grin on his face reflecting the grin on hers, and he squeezed her hand, walking away to find the boatman. Quinn giggled, bringing her fingers up to her lips, letting out a laugh and spinning around happily, feeling lighter and happier than she ever had before.

The thundering sounds of hooves pounding against the wood of the dock startled her out of her reverie, and Quinn whirled around, finding Sam atop Cocoa. His hand was outstretched to her, and his face was lined with worry. She frowned, moving toward him, the silent question all over her face.

"Your parents are coming home today." He stated, and her eyes flew open, heart pounding for a more tragic reason. If they weren't home before her parents…she refused to think of the consequences, sprinting toward the horse, letting Sam pull her up and wrapping her arms around his waist, legs squeezing against the mare.

"Wait, Finn!" Quinn shouted, her hair whipping as she looked around, but Sam gave her a doleful look, shaking his head.

"We don't have time," he said, snapping the reigns, the horse pounding against the dock as she began to gallop off.

Finn handed the coins to the large man, who wiped his face of the food he had been devouring before taking the coins, biting down on them and declaring them real, sliding them into his pack. Finn nodded once, turning and moving back to the dock, his eyes on his feet as he tried to push his feelings into words before he reached Quinn.

"I've never felt this – no, uh, I don't know how to describe it – no, no, I love…" the words died on his lips as he glanced up, watching Quinn leap onto the horse with the boy she had arrived at the ball with, riding off in the opposite direction. "You." He finished, watching as she turned, their eyes meeting, her lips shaping words he couldn't hear as she rode away.

There was another feeling most storybooks hadn't prepared him for, Finn realized. It was the inevitable shattering of his heart, the feeling like it had been ripped from his chest, torn away as she got farther and farther away. It was watching the girl you loved love someone else, and not being able to do anything about it. It was heartbreak, and it hurt.

Sam hooked Cocoa up sloppily, reaching up and swinging Quinn off, grabbing her hand and running toward the house. It didn't seem like any lights were on, which meant that the Fabrays might not be home. He was counting on that, practically dragging Quinn across the lawn, tugging the ladder he used to climb into her window down. "Go," he hissed, watching as she began climbing, following closely behind her. They tumbled into her room, standing in the middle of the room frozen, listening for any noises. When they heard nothing, they dissolved into relieved laughter, hugging each other tightly.

"We did it!" Quinn exclaimed, grinning widely, heartbeats rushing with adrenaline. "We made it!"

"I wouldn't be so sure." The dark tone from the door caused their smiles to fade, Quinn's grip on Sam's hands faltering, her blood running icy. The unmistakable anger emanating from her father's voice made her terrified to turn around. Sam looked at her, the complete lack of doubt in his eyes creating courage in her own, and she turned, facing her demons.

"You deliberately lied to us. You sent your mother and I on a wild goose chase through the kingdom while you gallivanted through the land and broke every rule we've laid down for your protection! You are ungrateful, besmirching our good name, and punished from now until the rest of your life." Russell growled, stepping into the room. Behind him, Judy stood silently, unable to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

Quinn's fear slowly turned to anger, her trembling fingers curling into fists. Before she had left, her father's unmanageable temper would have terrified her into meekness, causing her to curl up and accept her punishment without a word otherwise. But now, after everything she had experienced, all she had seen and done, all the things she had felt and heard, from grass to rain to love, Quinn was no longer a scared little girl.

"No." She replied, voice firm, ringing out through the room. Russell's eyebrows lifted, and he stood in front of her, glowering down at her.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no." Quinn said, her chin jutting up defiantly. "I've been out there, Father. I've seen the world. You say it's so dangerous, but the danger is here, not out there. I don't care what you say, I know what it's like. I've seen it. I've done things I never could in here. I went to a dance, I ate cupcakes and saw the lighting of the lanterns!" Judy stiffened in the doorway, and for a split second, Russell's face flickered with fear. "I fell in love!" Quinn shouted, and instantaneously, the fear disappeared from Russell's face, replaced by stone cold fury.

"You did what?" He spat, eyes moving from Quinn to Sam, red blurring his vision. Sam barely had time to throw the history book onto Quinn's dresser before ducking out of the way of Russell's fist, casting an apologetic look at Quinn before leaping out the window, clambering down the ladder and disappearing out of sight. Russell's chest heaved as he panted, banging his fist against the window.

"You are never leaving this room again." He said, his voice dangerously low as he turned to face Quinn. "Ever." Each consonant was enunciated, vicious and cutting. "Judy, stay here. I'm going to get wood."

"For what?" Judy whispered, her voice a soft sliver of sound in the otherwise furious room.

"She's not leaving." He replied, brushing past Quinn roughly, barreling his way out of the room and storming down the stairs, the door slamming behind him, causing Judy to jump, giving Quinn a small, sad smile. Quinn remained expressionless, staring at her mother. She knew Judy's weaknesses, knew that her mother hated anything that wasn't pretty, hated feeling uncomfortable or lonely without the feel of a glass half-empty in her hand. It didn't take long for Judy's eyes to drop, and when it was clear Russell wouldn't be returning soon, she slipped out of the door, flying to the only thing that could give her the courage to look her daughter in the eye. Left alone, Quinn crumpled onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow and letting herself sob, her body shaking as she cried for things she would never get back.

It could have been days, or hours, or minutes, or seconds, but when Quinn lifted her head from her pillow, the sun had fallen and she was still alone. She lifted her hair out of her eyes, and nearly screamed when she noticed Sam standing in the corner, idly flipping through the book he left on her dresser before.

"Don't do that," she hissed, putting a hand to her chest. He chuckled, the laugh quickly dying as he remembered laughing wasn't something he should do now. Instead, he walked over, sitting next to her on the bed, handing her the book.

"I wanted to give you this. I got it while we were out. There's a part in there…well, I think you need to read it." He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Happy birthday, Quinn." She laughed without humor, her fingers tracing over the gilded lettering on the cover.

"Happy birthday to me," she mumbled, glancing up when the weight on the bed shifted, catching Sam walking to the window.

"Where are you going?" She asked, nerves tugging at her voice. If Russell found him wandering around, he would hurt first and ask questions later. She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to Sam because of her. The thought of it made her stomach twist with fear and nausea, and she stared at him with worry creasing her forehead. He smiled slightly, reaching out and brushing her chin with his finger.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry." Sam gave her another reassuring smile before leaping out the window. The movement was so familiar, he had done it thousands of times before, but each time Quinn knew he would return. The uncertainty in her gut didn't help the feeling that this could be the last time she saw her best friend, and not even his confidence could aid her now. He was gone, and it was all she could do not to follow him out the window.

Sinking onto the bed, Quinn lowered the book into her lap, opening the cover, slightly comforted by the always familiar smell of books. Leaning against her pillows, Quinn began to thumb through the pages, her lips quirking up but her heart sinking down when she came across the section on Mila, a portrait of the Hummel clan staring up at her, Finn's younger but innocent grin slicing at her. Her finger brushed over his face, wondering if he would ever know how sorry she was. Unable to look at the page any longer in fear she would start crying again, Quinn quickly flipped the page, coming across a new section. Marcel, the title read. The Home of the Lost Princess.

Sam flew across the kingdom, the horse he was riding on unfamiliar but speedy, exactly what he needed. He lay low, letting the wind scream over him as he pushed the horse to his limits, hooves pounding against the ground as they sped toward the castle. I have to find Finn, he thought. I have to let him know.

Frowning slightly, Quinn flipped the page, eyes scanning over the paper as she began to read, heart pounding loudly in her ears as her fingers traced over the words. Seventeen years ago, a great blessing was bestowed onto the kingdom of Marcel in the form of a princess, Lucy. The kingdom rejoiced, and the King and Queen marked the day of her birth with a floating lantern. The joy would only last so long, however, and soon tragedy struck. Only days later, the child was stolen from her room, and the first ever death by heartbreak was recorded. The King, without his wife or child, settled into an iron rule, distraught and alone. Every year, the kingdom of Marcel holds a lighting of the lanterns ceremony, in hopes that the lost princess will see them and return home.

When the horse slid to a stop in front of the castle, Sam jumped off, thinking about nothing but getting inside. He glanced up at the stone wall, wondering which window was Kurt's, figuring the younger prince would be the safest person to find. He had taken one step forward when suddenly two figures were running at him, shouting, "Show yourself!" Sam barely had time to look over when his arms were being pinned against his back.

"Hey, wait! No, you don't understand! I need to talk to Kurt!" Sam shouted, struggling as his captors dragged him toward the castle.

Quinn's pulse was drumming in her ears, drowning out the pounding of nails on wood coming from her window, silencing everything except the words she had read, which repeated loudly in her mind. Her fingers trembled as she turned the page, and there was a picture of a child, the label underneath reading the lost princess of Marcel, Lucy Schuester. Staring up at her from the baby's face were eyes that were unmistakably Quinn's.

Sam's wrists were tied together roughly with rope, burning against his skin with each shift of his shoulders. The first guard, a dark strip of hair running down the middle of his otherwise shaved head, pushed him toward a cell in the dungeon, nudging him until he was behind the bars. "Please, I need to see him, it's important," Sam begged, rushing toward the bars.

"Yeah, we'll let him know he's got a visitor," the guard replied, laughing and smacking palms with the other guard, tossing the keys just out of Sam's reach onto the floor, walking up the stairs.

"You don't understand! It's about the princess!" Sam shouted, watching helplessly as the guards walked up the stairs, leaving him alone. He sank against the cool metal bars, closing his eyes in defeat.

"This is me," Quinn whispered, staring at the book. "I'm the lost princess."


	7. something's starting right now

The door to the living room swung open, slamming against the wall. If Judy Fabray had been a braver woman, she would have gotten used to the loud noises that came with being married to a man with a temper. As it was, it had been over twenty years of marriage, yet the sound of her only daughter crashing into the living room still caused her to jump as if it was the first time her husband had slammed a door.

"Quinn, you're supposed to be in your room," Judy said softly, the familiar line of fear crossing her forehead. Quinn glowered at her from the doorway, the book held firmly in her hand.

"Where is Father?"

"He's outside, Quinnie, you should go back into your room,"

"Go get him." Quinn's voice was low but firm, her eyes never leaving her mother's. Judy frowned, never having to receive such harsh treatment for her daughter.

"Quinnie,"

"Go get him!" Quinn raised her voice, stepping into the living room.

"I did not raise you to speak to your mother this way," Judy protested, rising from the couch.

"You're not my mother!" Quinn shouted, taking another step into the room. Judy's fingers clenched around the glass, and her voice fell so soft, it was nearly inaudible.

"Quinnie…"

"Go get Father." She said, the tone making it clear that she wasn't going to repeat herself. Judy hesitated, well aware of what could transpire if Russell came back in to find Quinn out of her room, but Judy had never been a brave woman. She slipped out of the house silently, leaving Quinn with nothing but her betrayed feelings, staring at the door as she waited for her father. A bag was already slung around her shoulders, filled with things necessary to make a three-day trip, and all she needed to do now was tie up the last loose end strangling her and forcing her to stay here: her father.

Russell threw the door open, and if Quinn had been in a perceptive mood, she might have laughed at how similar their entrances were. As it was, she wasn't observational, nor amused. Her shoulders squared, and Russell growled, walking toward her.

"I told you to stay in your room."

"You are not in charge of me." Quinn replied coolly, her eyes level. Perhaps it took the truth, or maybe stepping outside, feeling grass or rain or kisses, but something in Quinn had broken. The spell had dissolved, and she was no longer a scared little girl who cowered in her room and hid in her books. She was a young lady, staring her fears in the face and hiding no longer.

"I am your father!" He shouted, and even though he towered above her, Quinn felt no fear.

"No, you're not!" Quinn matched his volume, and when his upper lip curled into a snarl of rage, she didn't tremor. "You stole me. You took me from my family, you killed my mother! You tried to raise me as your own, but I never belonged to you!" Each statement meant a step, and by the last sentence, he had taken a step back, staring at her like she was a completely different creature than the timid girl he had come to know. And in a way, she was. Staring at him with nothing but contempt in her eyes, Quinn raised her chin defiantly.

"I'm going to find my family." Later, Quinn would thank her lucky stars he was stunned enough for her to run out the door, but in the present, she breezed past him, her hair the last thing he saw as she disappeared out the door.

Neither of them noticed Judy's absence.

Quinn sprinted as fast as she could, feet hitting the ground, speeding too fast to appreciate the way the wind fell across her face, pushing her long hair behind her. When she spun, however, to make sure her father hadn't tried to follow her, the end of her braid whipped around her side, and she was reminded once again of the magnificent day she had with Finn. Her fingers brushed through the ends of her hair, and her mouth set in a determined line. I'm coming back, Finn, she promised, sending a silent swear up into the heavens. I'm coming back to you. But first…she glanced around, biting her lip. The gates to the stables were open, and her heart sank, hopelessness swimming around her. All the horses had scampered off, and it would take her awhile to hunt one down, even if she had an idea of where they had gone. She was about to set off on foot when a soft whinny to her left caught her attention.

"Cocoa," Quinn breathed, never thinking she would ever be more grateful to see a horse than she was right now. Running over to the mare, she put her hand against Cocoa's neck, nimbly untying her from the tree. As she did so, her finger crumpled against something that wasn't definitely wasn't hair. Frowning slightly, Quinn grasped what seemed to be paper and pulled it out from underneath Cocoa's reigns.

Hope you remember how to get on.

-Sam

"Thank you," she whispered, putting the paper into her bag and grabbing the reigns, putting one foot in the stirrup, swinging over a little clumsily, but making it, gripping the reigns in her hands. "Okay," she muttered, staring for a second, heart pumping. "Let's go." Snapping the reigns as she remembered Sam doing, Quinn gripped at Cocoa as she began trotting, slowly moving into a gallop as the scenery began to run past them in a blur. I'm coming, family. Wherever you may be.

It had been a full day since Finn had come home, sullen and alone. He had brushed past Kurt, who had admittedly been waiting near the drawbridge since sunset, hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother's mystery girl or catch Finn humming a happy tune under his breath. Instead, Finn had said nothing, his head ducked down as he walked past Kurt, completely ignoring every attempt his younger brother threw out to have a conversation. He had locked himself in his room, and hadn't come out since. Carole was worried, and Burt was concerned, and Kurt was having no more of his brother's pouting mood.

"I'm going to go talk to him," Kurt declared, rising from his perch on the stairs in front of the throne room. His mother glanced at him, forehead wrinkled with apprehension.

"Are you sure that's wise, Kurt? He seemed extremely distraught when he came home yesterday," she asked cautiously, holding a hand out to her youngest son. He nodded, hands resting on his hips as he cocked an eyebrow.

"Mother, if I don't go in there, he's just going to stay and wallow in his own misery. And probably filth. Besides, he must be getting hungry. I'll come with food, he can't turn me away."

Kurt knocked gently on Finn's door, the manservant with the tray of food and drinks a few steps behind him. "Finn?"

"I don't want to speak with anyone."

"We don't have to speak."

"I don't wish to see anyone."

"You can close your eyes."

"Kurt-"

"Finn, I'm going to count to three, and whether or not you are in a state of decent dress when three comes I will open the door and enter."

"Kurt-"

"One, two," Kurt was cut short by the door swinging open, revealing a disheveled Finn. His hair was flying in different directions, his jaw was dusted with hair, short and stubbly, and his eyes had bags underneath them, as if he hadn't seen sleep in ages. Kurt tried his best to resist shuddering, but a chill still ran through his spine. He took the tray from the manservant, motioning with his head that the other man could leave, and looked at Finn with a mixture of pity and disgust.

"Finn, I'm coming in." Kurt said, giving his brother a pointed glance. "You have been holed up in this room for a whole day now, and I know you haven't eaten anything. I brought you a platter of the venison we had for dinner, and warm milk, to soothe you." Finn opened his mouth, ready to protest, but closed it, knowing it would be a lost cause. Instead, he stepped back, allowing Kurt to gingerly step over the pile of filth that had managed to collect during Finn's day of wallowing, making his way over to the bed. Finn cleared a spot big enough for both of them, and Kurt set the tray down on a nearby table, sitting down delicately. He handed a glass to Finn, who held it with both hands, staring down into the cup. Kurt sipped at his drink, waiting for Finn to speak first.

"She just…left," Finn croaked after a minute's silence, his hands trembling. Kurt glanced over at his brother, lips pressed into a sympathetic line. It hadn't missed Kurt's observations that Finn's sudden spiral into sadness was sparked by Quinn's disappearance, but Finn had obviously been nesting and was refusing to give any details. Until now, of course. "I thought…for once, it was nice to have someone who saw me for me, and not for what I'm supposed to be. She looked at me like I was a person, with feelings and stuff, and…I just thought, this once, maybe Mom's stories were right. About falling in love in a day. She was…and now she's gone." Finn put the glass on the table, his head burying in his hands. "I don't know what to do." Kurt's heart faltered at the sound of his brother's voice. He had never heard Finn so hopeless. Finn had been angry and upset before, shouting or kicking chairs or punching walls, but he had never been so desolate. His voice broke and shook, sending tremors and cracks through Kurt's heart.

"She left with that guy, the one from the dance…I mean, was I stupid to think that maybe she felt the same way about me?" Finn asked after another moment of silence, his voice trembling. He looked at Kurt, almost afraid of the answer.

"She isn't in love with him," Kurt replied softly, a light smile tugging at the ends of his lips. This, at least, he could reassure his brother. "He…he isn't interested in women." Finn's forehead wrinkled, and he looked at Kurt with confusion dancing in his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Finn asked quietly, his eyes searching Kurt's. For a moment, Kurt let his guard down, his brother's eyes sweeping deep into his soul, discovering the one thing Kurt was afraid to admit out loud, even to himself. Finn stared at Kurt, tilting his head to the side as he scanned Kurt's face. It slowly dawned on him, his eyes filling with sudden understanding, and a little confusion. "You know, because…because you…" He trailed off, unable to find sufficient words. Kurt chewed on his lower lip nervously, terrified of what judgment his brother would pass.

"Finn," Kurt started, but a rapid and urgent knock on the door cut him off short. Kurt rose to open it, and one of the guards, Noah, stumbled in.

"Your Highness," he started, bowing shallowly. "There's a prisoner in the dungeons who is causing a ruckus. He refuses to settle down until he sees one of you. He doesn't seem dangerous, just...determined." Noah said as he rose, keeping his eyes down as was custom. Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Finn, a confused frown creasing his forehead. Finn shrugged, and Kurt turned back to Noah.

"Does this prisoner have a name?" Kurt asked, pursing his lips together. Noah nodded.

"He says his name is Sam."

The sounds of footsteps pounding on the stairs caught Sam by surprise. Normally the guards entered with leisure, their loud and irritating voices announcing their presence long before they actually entered the dungeons. No one had ever dashed down the stairs, like this person seemed to. If he listened closely, Sam could almost pick out two pairs of feet. He was on the brink of a brilliant deduction when the person in question appeared.

"Kurt," Sam breathed, relief rolling off his tongue as easily as the prince's name. Kurt rushed to the bars, kneeling and reaching for Sam through the bars, a deep frown lining his skin.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt hissed, examining Sam for any injuries. When he realized what he was doing, he immediately stopped. It was ridiculous for him to be worried about a boy he had met twice, especially when that boy was currently locked up in the dungeon three floors below Kurt's bedroom. Things always looked different when Kurt forgot his royal lineage.

"I had to come talk to you, I need you to tell Finn-" As if on cue, Finn came barreling down the stairs, mid-sentence.

"Kurt, slow down, you don't know who could be down-!" He cut himself off when he saw Sam, stopping in his tracks. He recognized the blonde hair, the broad shoulders, his mind connecting him to the same guy who had snapped the reigns and rode off with Quinn, stealing her out of Finn's life with the blink of an eye.

"Where is she?" Finn said lowly, his voice quiet and dangerous. He closed the distance between him and Sam in two steps, and for the first time, Sam was grateful he was behind bars. "Where did you take her?"

"That's why I had to come back," Sam replied, resisting the urge to shrink away from Finn's anger, radiating off him in heat waves, rolling and surging with each pulse. Behind his anger was worry, barely masked and very much there, wavering in the way his eyes crinkled and blinked for a second too long. Finn wasn't sure how to handle this, his heart felt like half of it was thousands of miles away. And, for all he knew, it was.

"Quinn's in danger."

And now it was frozen, just like the rest of his body. It all seemed to make sense now, the pain and the mourning like he had lost a dear friend. He had. One could spend time with someone for only a day and know them for a lifetime, fall in love with them in a second and want to keep doing it for longer than life. One could look at someone and suddenly realize that they were the most important thing to grace the Earth, and you would do anything to protect them.

"Where is she?" Finn whispered, sinking to his knees next to Kurt. Sam studied his face for a moment, his eyes flickering over the genuine concern touching his forehead, the terrified panic in his eyes, the way his lip trembled and his hands clutched the bars like a dying man clings to life. He realized that Finn really loved Quinn, and knew he had made the right choice in coming here immediately.

"She's at her home, it's a two hour ride from here. She lives on the outer boundaries of Mila-"

"I know," Finn interrupted. "I was there. Once." He rose, quickly turning to move up the stairs.

"Finn, where are you going?" Kurt asked, turning to look at his brother.

"I have to go save her." Finn replied. "I need her." He ran up the stairs, gone in a flash, and once he was out of sight, Kurt turned back to Sam.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Kurt whispered, and without realizing it, his hand reached forward, brushing against Sam's. Sam smiled, reaching up and taking Kurt's fingers through his own.

"I trust you."

Finn shook in the stables, fumbling with each piece of equipment as he struggled to put it on Maximus, his ever faithful horse. The horse nickered, picking up on Finn's anxiety. "It'll be okay, boy," Finn muttered, lacing up the reigns. It has to be, he thought, she has to be okay. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that she wasn't. She had told him about her family, her father in particular, and if she hadn't made it home in time...he refused to think any farther, reaching for the leather straps that covered his arms as he rode, allowing a messenger falcon to land if needed. He usually didn't wear them, but with his brother and Sam back home, he wanted to keep in contact with them as much as possible. Tying the saddle, he leapt into the seat, squeezing his thighs against Maximus and whipping the reigns, galloping out of the stables. I'm coming, Quinn. Wherever you are.

Quinn wasn't sure if she would ever get used to leaping on a horse. There was something about floating in midair on top of a beast twice your size that left her with a pit of fear in her stomach. Her braid whipped behind her, a reminder of where she had been and where she was going. The flowers were still woven into her hair, some of them crushed, petals occasionally falling off, leaving a path behind her, a path she was certain she would not take again. With each lost leaf, each spiraling petal, Quinn began to shed the false identity she had grown up with, and with every jump forward, began stepping into the new life she would hopefully find.

Emerging from the forest into the plaza where she had first encountered the lanterns, Quinn tugged on Cocoa's reigns, slowing her to a light walk. Her chest tightened, and she was suddenly overcome with such emotion that she couldn't keep riding. Murmuring a soft, "woah, girl," Quinn pulled Cocoa to a stop, sliding off the horse, with a lack of grace she couldn't care less about. She stood next to the mare, her fingertips sliding off the glossy coat, stepping forward toward the lakeshore. "Will you remember me?" She whispered, wondering if somewhere, her family was waiting for her. Her true family, the one that had lost her so long ago. Would they cast her out? Or would they embrace her back wholeheartedly, providing her with the home she had longed for? Would the constrains of her new life be just as controlling as the chains of her old life? Shaking her head, Quinn turned back toward Cocoa. She couldn't worry about that now. Quinn hopped back onto the horse, her gaze turning toward the castle. Suddenly, she was flooded with thoughts of Finn, the broken look on his face burned into the back of her eyelids. She had to fix things. She had to let him know – perhaps, she thought, if everything works as it should, we could have a life together. Spurred on by that thought, Quinn leaned forward, urging Cocoa into a gallop. She needed to get to Finn.

"Excuse me, miss, but entrance to the castle is strictly forbidden." The guards, the one on the left meaty with a thick forehead, gripping his spear like he had something to prove, and the other, a strip of dark hair adorning the middle of his otherwise bare head, crossed their spears in front of the door. Quinn pulled Cocoa to a stop, her hooves clacking against the wood of the drawbridge.

"I need to speak to the prince." She said calmly. It was strange, she would think later on. It had been but a day ago that she had hidden beyond one of the trees in the castle's expansive yard, and now she was riding up to the door, demanding entrance. It was fantastic what a shift in perspective could do to a person's personality.

"Sorry, lady, but no one gets in here without a personal invitation." Squaring her shoulders, Quinn stared the one with the strip of hair directly in his dark eyes, maintaining her cool demeanor despite her quivering inside.

"My name is Lucy Schuester. I am the princess of Marcel. If that isn't enough of an invitation for you, you may call your prince out here and we shall have him let me in." It was the first time she had said her name out loud – her real name – and it sent a chill up her spine, like the name released some power she was unaware of. The larger solider laughed, giving her a skeptical look.

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of Marcel, it's nice to have you home, sweetie." With a quick snap of the reigns, Cocoa galloped forward, allowing Quinn to come face-to-face with the solider.

"Do you really want to test your theory?" She said quietly, gripping the reigns tightly. Cocoa huffed, and the soldiers exchanged a look.

"Sam!" Quinn exclaimed, running into the dungeon. Kurt and Sam jumped, their hands untangling. Quinn offered a hasty curtsy to Kurt, who smiled, waving his hand dismissively. Sam scrambled up, gripping at the bars.

"Quinn! How – are you okay? What happened? How did you get out?" Quinn knelt down, putting her hands against his.

"The book, Sam. The book you gave me, it – you won't believe it." Reaching into her bag, Quinn pulled out the book, handing it to Sam. His fingers brushed over the leather, and Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Is that from-"

"Yeah," Sam admitted sheepishly, giving Kurt a smile, which Kurt returned easily. Quinn felt as if she was watching an intimate exchange, and glanced down, giving them a moment of privacy. Sam opened the book, looking at Quinn with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. She took the book from him, flipping to the page she had studied intensely; sure she could draw it in her sleep if necessary. Handing it back to him, she drew her lower lip beneath her teeth, watching as he scanned over the book. Kurt slid sideways, tilting his head to read along. Sam's fingers brushed along the picture, and in a synchronicity that would have otherwise been amusing, Kurt and Sam looked up at her, expressions matching.

"That's you," Kurt breathed, glancing between the book and Quinn. She nodded slowly, taking the book back and placing it in her bag.

"Your Highness," The prince said, bowing his head. Quinn blushed, shaking her head quickly.

"Please. I'm hardly royalty." She murmured, glancing around the dank dungeon. "I was going to find – find my father, but I had to stop here…Where is Finn? I need to speak to him." The way his name rolled off her tongue with such an admiration made Kurt's heart ache. If only his brother was here to hear the way Quinn let the letters float off her tongue, the way she searched for him as if looking for the other part of her, perhaps his worries would be soothed.

"He just left," Sam said, glancing at Kurt with worry. "You didn't see him?" Quinn shook her head, eyebrows furrowing together. Kurt and Sam exchanged a worried glance, and then Kurt turned to Quinn.

"We shall send a message to him. You should continue on." Quinn's worried look make something in Kurt's stomach twist, her concern reflecting onto him. "Do not worry, princess. He will be safe. As will you." Kurt rose, bowing shallowly. Quinn stood, dipping into a curtsy quickly. She understood the message. Royals only bowed first to those they considered equal, and when Kurt looked up, he gave Quinn a soft smile. Sam relaxed slightly, and Quinn looked over at him.

"Will he be freed?" She asked Kurt, who glanced at Sam, a resolute look in the prince's eyes.

"By my hand." Kurt reassured her, and Quinn quickly moved to the bars, putting her hand against Sam's.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, and he grinned, kissing her forehead.

"Go get em, Quinn." She smiled, rising and quickly exiting the dungeon, the tail end of her braid the last thing they saw before she disappeared. Kurt turned, a renewed vigor sparking in his eyes. He squeezed Sam's hand, murmuring, "Wait here." He turned to go, and found his father standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Father," he breathed, Sam shrinking back into the cell.

"A pretty young blonde just came barreling past me on the stairs," Burt began, motioning toward the staircase. "And I've got Karofsky and Puckerman telling me that there's a lost princess on the loose, and a prisoner who they saw sneaking out of the library a few days ago." He crossed his arms over his chest, and Kurt clasped his hands together in a feeble attempt to stop their shaking. "Care to explain?" Kurt inhaled, squaring his shoulders and looking at his father, well aware that Sam's fate rested on this. He hadn't found the courage to explain that it was only his parents that could release prisoners, and unless Kurt could come up with a very good reason why Sam should be free, he could possibly be stuck inside the cell for the rest of his life. Or worse.

"Sam is innocent." Burt's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing, allowing his youngest son to continue. "The reason the guards saw him sneaking out of the library was because he was saving me from an unfortunate suitor. He stole nothing. He's an innocent man, Father, and I would put my life on it." Kurt finished confidently, his eyes searching Burt's face for any indication of what he was thinking. It was silent for a few moments, and the only sound Kurt could hear was his heartbeat, pounding loudly in his ears.

"Do you really believe this man is innocent?" Burt asked, and Kurt nodded quickly, his heart leaping. Burt glanced back at Sam, who was doing his best impression of an innocent man, and then at Kurt. With a sigh, he reached for his belt, handing a set of keys to Kurt. Without looking at Sam, Burt intoned, "Make sure he doesn't make me regret this." Kurt smiled, nodding his head, and Burt, despite his attempts to remain tough on the exterior, gave his son a soft smile in return.

"Your mom's probably worried about me," Burt said gruffly, quickly hiding his smile. Kurt gave him a knowing raise of his eyebrows, and Burt waved it off, turning and walking back up the stairs. Kurt quickly turned, flying back to the cell, his fingers fumbling with the keys until he found the correct one. Sam rose slowly, watching as Kurt opened the door, swinging it forward. Immediately, Sam threw his arms around Kurt, holding him tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered, and Kurt smiled, returning the hug easily, drinking in how warm Sam was, how his hands felt, even the distinct masculine smell he seemed to carry with him.

"Anything for you," Kurt murmured.


	8. be prepared

Sam followed Kurt up the stairs, dashing down hallways and clambering up the spiral staircase that led to the falcon tower. "We keep them in case one of us is traveling, and we need to communicate. Mother says they're only for emergencies, but I think she'd understand." Kurt said over his shoulder, pushing the door open to the falconry. There were a handful of birds that were perched at various points in the large room, and as Sam glanced around, mouth open in awe, Kurt moved to one of the walls that held equipment. Sliding on an arm guard, he let out four low notes, a whistle that bounced off the walls. Immediately, a gray Peregrine cut through the air, landing on Kurt's outstretched arm. The way in which he dealt with the animal with gentle care and efficiency, and how he carried himself around people in general, made Sam smile. He watched the prince with a soft grin, piping up to say, "You would make a fantastic king one day." Kurt looked up, cheeks flushing a dark red, and he shook his head quickly, fingers fumbling with the string.

"I don't know about that." He murmured under his breath, tying the knot finally. He lifted his arm in the air, and the bird took off, flying through the window at the top of the room. Sam raised his eyebrow, and Kurt waved his comment off, sliding off the arm guard and smiling at Sam with amusement.

"Come on, let's go to the stables. I don't know if your horse can support the two of us with supplies." He began to move to the door, but Sam froze, a frown lining his forehead.

"The two of us?" Kurt nodded, turning to face Sam.

"You didn't think I was going to let you go alone, did you?" The prince asked, one of his eyebrows lifting. Sam shook his head, taking a step toward Kurt.

"You can't come with me."

"Why not?"

"It's dangerous."

"Which is exactly why I won't let you go by yourself."

"Kurt-"

"I may be a prince, Sam, but I am not porcelain. I can defend myself very well, thank you."

"I wasn't implying that you couldn't, but-" Kurt held up a hand, effectively cutting Sam off.

"Don't make me play the prince card. I'm coming with you, whether you let it happen willingly, or I follow." Sam swallowed, glancing down. If Kurt followed, there was a chance he'd get kidnapped without Sam knowing, or worse. At least if Sam agreed to let him come along, he could keep an eye on him, and make sure no danger came his way. He glanced up at Kurt, who smiled knowingly.

"Fantastic."

When Finn rode up to the Fabray house, it felt like months since he had first seen the girl with the golden hair. It couldn't have been more than a week, and yet, so much had changed since then. Slowing his horse, he realized that there were no lights glowing in windows, and not a sign of life. Am I too late? His heart pounded and he urged his horse forward, trotting to the front door. He slid off Maximus with a certain finesse that came only with years of practice, and hand on sword, pushed open the front door. It creaked with an ominous tone, and Finn's grip on his sword handle tightened. Signs of an obvious outrage were strewn everywhere. Knocked over tables, shards of wood, books ripped apart and thrown across the floor, whoever had been in here last hadn't been pleased. And if they had destroyed the furniture this easily...Finn didn't allow himself to continue that thought. Quinn was safe. She had to be.

He stepped farther into the house, and it was made clear that there was no one in the house. It gave him little comfort. If Quinn wasn't here, that either meant that she had escaped whoever tore the house apart, or she was with them. Or worse. Finn turned, practically running out of the house, unable to take its eerie state any longer. He sank against the front door, running his fingers through his hair. "What am I going to do?" He murmured, looking over at Maximus. His horse merely stared back, his large brown eyes wide and sympathetic. Finn had traveled all this way to find an empty house, devoid of life. He had nowhere to turn to, and the thought of riding back to his home empty-handed seemed depressing and pointless. He was in the middle of debating whether or not to keep riding when a familiar piercing screech broke through the sky.

Without hesitating, Finn lifted his arm toward the sky, the gray streak blurring through the clouds getting closer. When the weight of his falcon rested on his arm, Finn lowered it easily, quickly untying the message attached to his leg.

Go to Marcel, the message read, penned in his brother's unmistakable neat handwriting. Your mystery girl solved her case all on her own. You sure do know how to pick them, Finn. Go to Marcel. Your princess will need you.

Finn read the note three times, his heart pounding in his chest. If Kurt meant what he thought he meant…the lost princess. Finn crumpled the note, shoving it into his pocket, lifting his arm into the air and watching as his falcon took off in the direction of home. Leaping back onto Maximus, Finn squeezed his legs, urging his horse to follow the falcon. If his suspicions were correct, Marcel was where he needed to be.

I'm coming, Quinn, he thought. As fast as I can.

Sam sat in the back of the stable, hungrily devouring the meal Kurt had snagged from the kitchen. He hadn't had a proper meal in months, thanks to the frugality and sometimes cruelty of Russell, and Kurt had been shocked when Sam told him. It hadn't taken much for the prince to convince the cook to give him leftovers from dinner, and when Kurt presented it to Sam with an apologetic look, Sam had snorted and took it from him, eating half of it on the way to the stables.

Sam ripped open a roll; a sinful groan escaping his lips as the warm steam rose, brushing against his cheeks like an old friend. He tore into the bread, practically choking it down, causing Kurt to glance over at him with concern. Sam waved him off, and Kurt laughed as he turned back to the horse, tightening the bridle on the cream colored horse. For a moment, it was as if their only cares were each other, and Kurt was grateful for the moment of peace. He could collect his thoughts and enjoy Sam's company, two things that were scarce in his household. He always felt like he was running from one thing to another, running errands for his mother and doing business for the kingdom, and it was so seldom that there was someone in the castle his age other than his brother that didn't make Kurt want to tear out his hair.

"Here, you're doing that odd," Sam said, putting his plate down on the bale of hay next to him, rising to move next to Kurt. The brunette looked over at him, raising his eyebrow.

"I know how to dress a horse." Sam rolled his eyes, nudging Kurt over, his hands sliding under the prince's.

"At least let me do my job, Kurt." Sam said, his fingers nimbly retying the bridle, adjusting it differently than Kurt would have. The blonde glanced over, raising an eyebrow.

"Do people not do things for you often?" He asked, looking back down at the leather in his hands.

"Too often," Kurt responded, looking at Sam with pursed lips, past annoyance flaring up once again. Sam smiled slightly, not looking over at the prince.

"Must be nice." Sam murmured. There was no malicious intent in his words, nor a bitter tone in his voice, but all the same, Kurt felt guilt twist at his stomach. He stared at the blonde, watching as he gently handled the horse, tilting her head this way and that as he attached the proper equipment, moving around the stable like he had been doing it his whole life. And, Kurt realized, he had. It was his job.

"I'm sorry if I sounded…spoiled," Kurt said quietly, staring down at his lap. He wasn't looking, but he could hear the smile in Sam's voice when he replied.

"You don't. You sound royal." Sam chuckled, and continued. "Not that it's a bad thing, you just sound…frustrated. You kind of remind me of Quinn, which is funny, with everything." The blonde looked up, catching Kurt's eye. "Sometimes, people want to do things for you because it's a nice gesture. Sometimes people like you, and they want to take care of you." He dropped his head, the tips of his ears heating up as if he had said something he shouldn't, and Kurt couldn't help the smile that slid over his lips. Shyly, he glanced back down at his hands, a light flush spreading over his cheeks. Without thinking, he said, "Do you like me?" When Sam didn't answer, Kurt looked up, afraid he had made a grievous mistake. When he saw Sam staring straight ahead, eyes widened, Kurt followed his line of sight, swallowing when he saw what Sam was looking at.

"Blondie still here?" His father asked casually, leaning against the stable door. Kurt rose, moving to his father.

"Yes, Sam is still here." He said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Burt glanced over at the stable boy, who busied himself with checking the saddle on the horse, and then returned his gaze to Kurt, lowering his voice.

"You weren't completely honest with me in the castle." The king's tone wasn't accusatory, merely stating a fact. It still twisted at Kurt's gut, and he lowered his gaze, shameful. He was very close with his father, and Kurt got the sense that his dad was talking about more than just the moment in the dungeon. It was almost scary how well his father knew him, and even now, Kurt couldn't bring himself to lie to his father. It had been seventeen years that his father had looked at him with those knowing eyes, expectant and comforting, and seventeen years that Kurt had lied to his father and hidden the truth. Now that Quinn was officially more than a commoner, Finn would be allowed to marry whoever he wanted.

Kurt wanted that liberty, too.

"Father, I…I need to tell you something." Kurt began slowly, staring down at the warped wood on top of the stable door, the only thing separating him and his father. His fingers traced patterns as he searched for words, his mind scrambling for the appropriate thing to say. Burt waited silently, his shifting weight the only indication he had any inkling of what was about to come. "Sam is an innocent man. You have no need to doubt him, or his character. But," Kurt hesitated, the fingers by his side curling into a nervous fist, the sharp sting of his nails digging into his palm keeping him focused. "His innocence is not the reason I defended him." Inhaling sharply, Kurt continued. "When you care about someone, you want to take care of them. And I care about Sam, Father…in the way I should care about a maiden." It was silent in the stable for what felt like eternity, the only noise audible the flicking swish of the horse's tail. Finally, Kurt mustered up the courage to look up at his father, and was surprised to see tears welling in his dad's eyes.

"You know," Kurt breathed, and Burt nodded.

"I've always known," Burt said, his voice low. "I love you, Kurt. You're my son. And I will always be proud of you, no matter who you love." It wasn't until the salty splash of a tear hit Kurt's cheek that he realized he was crying, and without hesitation, he flung forward, throwing himself in his father's arms. He didn't care about the wood pressing in his stomach, or that dirt was staining his pants, the only thing that mattered was that his father was okay with his feelings. Burt was proud of him, no matter what.

"I love you, Father," Kurt mumbled, pressing his tear-stained face into the crook of Burt's neck.

"I love you too, son." Burt muttered, pulling away and straightening his shoulders, wiping his tears in what Kurt assumed was supposed to be a masculine manner. Kurt let out a laugh, wiping his own tears, and Burt focused his attention on Sam.

"You take care of him, you hear?" He said gruffly, his tone menacing. Kurt knew his dad wouldn't hurt Sam, but the terrified look on Sam's face was almost worth it.

"Of course, Your Highness." Burt glared at him for another few seconds, then reached over, tousling Kurt's hair, before walking back toward the castle. Kurt glanced over at Sam, who smiled warmly at him.

"You care about me?" He teased, and Kurt rolled his eyes, ignoring the smug smile on Sam's face and the slight smile on his own.

"Shut up and get on the horse."

The thundering sound of hooves were the only thing Quinn concentrated on. She was nearing Marcel, signs pointing her in the right direction, and the faster Cocoa galloped, the more nervous Quinn felt. She knew it was ridiculous to feel nervous about this after everything she had done in the past week, but with each step, she felt closer to clearing her stomach. Terror fled through her – what if Russell caught up to her? What if King William didn't recognize her? What if she had done all this – expelled her old life, escaped from her chains, condemned her old family, left the one she loved – and she showed up on the drawbridge of Marcel's castle and was turned away? She had a feeling the guards in front of the king's castle would be less terrified of her regal attitude, and wouldn't let her in as easily as the guards at Finn's castle had done.

Stop thinking like this, Quinn reprimanded herself, shaking her head. She couldn't afford to think like this. It was dangerous. She needed to focus, and so focus she did. The feel of Cocoa shifting underneath her, the loud clapping the horseshoes made against the sloppily paved road, the way her legs squeezed and loosened to move with the mare flooded Quinn's mind, the physical attributes of her journey pushing out the emotional ones. She couldn't let her heart worry anymore. She had to believe in this. She needed to.

Just as dawn broke, Quinn emerged from the forest, slowing Cocoa down as they stepped into the sleeping town. The click-clack of Cocoa's horseshoes against the cobbled road were the only noise, and Quinn drew her hood back, staring at the small city. Her city. Marcel. In the center of the town, a dark castle rose, the pink tendrils of light from the sunrise tinting the leeward stones a soft rose. In the midst of that castle, the remaining members of Quinn's family, her true family, waited for her to return. Gently snapping the reigns, Quinn urged Cocoa forward, anticipation gripping at her chest. As the blonde trotted forward, a dark shadowed man on a night black horse hovered at the edge of the forest. In his eyes glinted revenge, but this time, he would not resort to kidnapping.

This time, Russell Fabray meant to kill.


	9. mother knows best

Will Schuester woke with a start, the sharp knocking on his door startling him out of him dreams. He quickly dressed, opening the door and finding his manservant, a short, stout, tanned man with a last name that reminded Will of foliage, waiting for him. When his manservant began explaining, Will felt his heart seize up in his chest.

As he walked down the hall, Will considered the possibilities. It wasn't possible it was someone attempting to be an imposter. This wasn't a city where con men convinced orphaned girls to pretend for a monetary reward, the people of Marcel were just as heartbroken at Lucy's disappearance as the royal family. It was possible it was an outsider, but what would they be after? Riches? Fame? There was, of course, the option it was actually her, but Will couldn't allow himself to think that. It had been seventeen years. He had all but given up on a family reunion.

And yet, as he walked into the large foyer, a spark of hope bloomed in his chest. As the blonde girl turned, staring at him with an expression that was both nervous and expectant, Will felt like someone had smacked him in the chest. There it all was. The blonde hair that had both baffled and bemused Shelby, the grace in her stance, the look in her eyes, it was all so much his wife that Will had no choice but to stagger forward, reaching for her.

"You…you're…" He whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek.

"I'm your daughter." She murmured, collapsing into his chest. His arms wrapped around her, he buried his face in his hair, and she shook in his arms, both of them openly sobbing, clutching each other tightly.

"You remember me," Quinn said, pulling away to stare up at him. Will smiled through his tears and nodded.

"You have your mother's eyes." He explained, both of them pausing for a moment, the shadow of her death hanging heavily over them. "She would have been so proud of you," Will whispered, pain streaking his voice, but a smile on his face. Quinn's heart lurched, aching for the mother she would never know. Both of them were unaware of the door creaking open, a silhouette sneaking in. The unmistakable noise of a sword was drawn, and Russell Fabray stepped out of the shadows. Immediately, Will pushed Quinn behind him, his arm outstretched in front of her.

"Russell." The king's voice was tinged with fatigue. "My old friend. Why have you returned?" Russell stepped forward, the gleam of a nearby lantern flickering off his sword, casting shadows on his face that illuminated the crazed look in his eye.

"I have come to get revenge, William." His voice was low, strained, like he was holding back emotions he didn't dare let loose.

"I won't let you take her from me again." Will growled, and Russell chuckled darkly.

"I'm afraid nothing you can do will stop me, old friend." Russell spat the term of endearment back at Will like it was acidic, and the king flinched, providing Russell with the opportunity to strike, his sword swinging quickly through the air. His sword sliced forward, the terrifying noise of metal through flesh bouncing off the castle walls. Quinn looked in horror, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

"Judy," Russell sounded stunned, pulling his sword out of his wife. She staggered backward, and as Quinn rushed forward to catch her, Will rushed forward at Russell, throwing his weight against the other man, Russell's head hitting the stone walls with a sickening crack. Will stepped backward, a cool expression masking his torrential emotions. "I'll go get the guard," he murmured, leaving Quinn alone with her mother. The blonde kneeled on the floor, cradling her mother's head in her lap. The large gash in her stomach was only growing, and as the blood seeped across Judy's dress, Quinn felt their time being cut short.

"Please don't go," Quinn whispered, feeling guilt for every time she had lashed out at Judy. They hadn't parted on good terms, and when Judy smiled weakly, Quinn felt the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes.

"I wasn't the mother you deserved," Judy said softly, her voice strained. "But you were the daughter I needed." Quinn shook her head quickly, tears dripping off her cheek.

"Don't say that," she sobbed, cradling Judy close. "You were the only mother I knew." Judy inhaled sharply, wincing as she shifted, and despite Quinn's best effort to keep her comfortable, Judy let out a soft noise of complaint. She waved away Quinn's attempts to help her, reaching to her side and pulling out a medium-sized dagger, handing it to Quinn.

"I know you know how to use this." Judy whispered. It was true. When Quinn was younger, around ten or twelve, Russell had taken it upon himself to teach Quinn how to defend herself. He had said it was in the case of an intruder while Judy and Russell were away, but the lessons ended shortly after Russell discovered that Quinn had a knack for knife fighting. Quinn wrapped her hand around the hilt, surprised to discover that it fit quite well. "You will need it." The daughter looked down at her mother, whose eyes were already closing.

"Please don't leave me," Quinn begged, dropping the dagger by her side. The ends of Judy's lips curled into a smile, and Quinn realized that she looked happier than she ever had at home.

"You don't need me anymore." With that, Judy let out her final breath, settling against Quinn's lap. Quinn kneeled over her, sobs wracking her body. Twice in ten minutes she was crying, once for gaining her family and once for losing it. She couldn't believe it. Her father, Russell, her kidnapper, had yanked her away from her first family and destroyed any semblance of her second. Rage quickly overtook her sorrow, and she turned just in time to see him staggering toward her, sword in hand. The metal screamed as it sliced through the air, and Quinn managed to move just in time, rolling to the side, letting go of Judy and hitting the floor quickly. The sword bounced off the floor, and Quinn lunged for her dagger, fingers grasping around the hilt. She turned toward Russell, eyes blazing.

Finn leaped off Maximus, not even pausing to tie him up. He knew his horse wouldn't run off, but his horse wasn't his main concern. As he ran across the drawbridge, the sight of the guards slumped against each other, unconscious at best, caused him to falter. If his gut was right, Quinn's father was responsible, and from what Quinn had told him, he wasn't someone to be left alone with. He ran into the castle, taking the stairs two at a time. "Please be okay," he whispered, the faint sounds of a fight floating down from above him.

Quinn let out a shout, charging toward Russell, dagger held firmly in her extended hand. Their weapons clashed in the middle, scraping against each other. They continued to exchange blows, Quinn pushing Russell back with each step forward, and he let out a frenzied noise, lurching backwards. Quinn's chest was heaving, each breath a reason to keep going. "This is for Mother," Quinn hissed, slashing at Russell. He moved out of the way, but Quinn kept advancing, her dagger flying. "This is for Sam," she shouted, darting forward, the tip of her dagger ripping Russell's outer coat. "And this is for me!"

A scream erupted from above Finn, causing him to trip. He scrambled to gain his balance, the only thought floating through his head, Quinn. He clumsily righted himself, heart thundering in his chest. "Quinn!" He shouted, drawing his own sword and charging up the stairs. His own safety be damned, he needed to get to Quinn.

Russell held Quinn against the wall by her throat, one of his hands pressed against her windpipe, the other holding the sword teasingly against her neck. "You slipped away from me twice," he growled, a wild smile appearing on his lips. "I refuse to let it happen again." Quinn struggled for breath, her hands wriggling by her sides. She felt the hilt of her dagger, the feel of it giving her a bit of comfort. The weapon was lifted, and blood was drawn.

What scared Finn the most was the absolute silence that fell. The scream pierced the air, but the silence blanketed it, making Finn worry that his fall had damaged his hearing. He leaped to the top of the landing, shoving the heavy wooden door aside. The sight in front of him weakened his knees, and he leaned against the doorframe, vision going hazy.

It was like being back at the Fabray home. Furniture was overturned, and damage was obvious, a trail of destruction ripped through the room. The only difference was here, blood lined the trail, splashed against the walls and the floor like a violent painting, a bloody homage to whatever fights had happened. And there, at the end of one of the trails, lay a frail, small, blonde figure, a pool of blood circling her middle. Finn fell to his knees, gasping for breath. "Quinn," he managed to croak out, her name falling from his lips like a prayer to the heavens. He couldn't believe it. He was too late. It didn't matter what happened to him now. He would accept death gratefully, greet it like an old friend, embrace whatever violent end Russell had waiting for him. Quinn was dead. He had no ties here anymore.

"Finn?" A tiny voice from somewhere to his left called out. For a second, he wondered if he was imagining it, but as he looked, he realized it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him. Her hair was raggedly cut, and she looked shook up, but there, relatively unharmed and very much alive, stood Quinn. He wasn't sure when he moved, or if she moved for him, but she was suddenly in his arms, her fingers pressed against the back of his neck like he was a lifeline. He clung to her, quivering as he felt her heartbeat play a beautiful melody. I'm alive, each thump seemed to say. I'm here.

"You're not dead," Finn murmured, almost in disbelief.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn whispered into his skin, unable to let go of him. Two days ago, she was sure she would never see him again, and now, he was here, warm and solid and so, so present. Finn pulled away enough to look at her, checking for injuries.

"Sam told me you were in danger." Finn said, brushing her bangs out of her face. His fingers trailed down her cheek, stopping at her chin, where her hair now ended. He raised an eyebrow, and she glanced down, almost as surprised as he was to see the long braid gone.

"My fath – Russell – he must have cut it off when I…" she trailed off, looking to her right, the lifeless body of her kidnapper slumped against the wall. "He killed my mother, Finn," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. He gently pressed her to his chest, letting her break down in his arms. Murmuring soft words of comfort, he pressed kisses to the top of her head, waiting patiently for her to let it out. When she choked out her last sob, she looked up at him again, eyes searching his face.

"Why did you come here?" She whispered, her hand finding his. He smiled slightly, bringing their hands up, kissing her knuckles softly. The gesture seemed so foreign in this setting, and Quinn thanked whoever was looking out for her that Russell had not taken this away from her, too.

"I had to come, Quinn." He began, warm brown eyes meeting confused hazel. "Sam told me you were in danger, and I – I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. You can spend your whole life searching, because you feel like something is missing. And…I realized it wasn't something I was searching for. It was someone." He paused, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips, inhaling before continuing. "I was searching for you. I love you, Quinn. I don't want to live a day without you." She was silent for a moment, and Finn was sure she could hear the pounding of his heart.

"I love you too," she breathed, and he exhaled, almost laughing with relief. Without hesitation, he surged forward, cupping her cheek and kissing her again, relishing in the fact that he could, just because he wanted to. As their lips met, a silent promise was passed from person to person, from soul to soul. They were connected now. He would follow her to the ends of the earth, and she knew he would always be there. They were made for each other, two halves of a whole, and nothing would ever tear them apart again. He was sure she could feel his smile, because he could feel hers, and in that moment, everything was alright, because they had each other.

As they broke apart, the door on the far end of the room swung open, and Will, flanked by three guards, walked in quickly. Finn rose, helping Quinn up before bowing to the king.

"Father," she breathed, stepping toward him. The parental term rolled off her tongue. It felt odd, addressing someone who wasn't Russell with that title, but the look on Will's face made it worthwhile. He looked almost joyful. His daughter had returned. His family was safe. "It's okay." Quinn added, looking at Finn. Will glanced around, respite allowing his shoulders to slump. He glanced over her head, looking at Finn, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"This is Finn, Father, he's my…" Quinn faltered, unsure of what to say. Before Finn could step in with an answer, the door nearest to the prince flew open. All six people in the room turned, eyes landing on the pair in the doorway.

"What did we miss?" Sam asked, peeking over Kurt's shoulder.


	10. epilogue

Quinn sat in front of the mirror, nervously examining herself for the thousandth time that morning. The windows were open, and a light spring breeze drifted through, caressing her face gently. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes, tilting her head toward the window. A smile as gentle as the breeze slipped over her lips, and she didn't realize she was humming until the low chuckle of her best friend came through the door.

"Nice to see nothing's changed," Sam said with a grin, sweeping into the room and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Quinn laughed, turning to face him.

"Except practically everything." Sam joined her in laughter, shaking his head and reaching for her hand.

"Everyone's lining up. Are you ready to go?" Quinn bit her lip, glancing at herself in the mirror one last time.

Since her reunion with her father in Marcel, everything seemed to blend together. After Sam and Kurt stumbled into King William's palace, Will had sent the guards into the room to collect Russell and Judy's bodies, and asked Quinn what she would like to do with them. An overwhelming sense of loneliness washed over her, and she had shrugged, unsure of what to say. The guards were gentle with Judy, which she appreciated, but the way they handled Russell, like he was worth nothing, twisted her stomach. She felt it wasn't her place to say anything, so she had remained silent, shrugging her shoulders and looking down at the ground. A pair of feet entered her view, and she looked up, the sympathetic smile of the king looking back at her.

"We'll make sure they get a proper burial," Will said softly, placing his hand on her shoulder. Her smile flickered back onto her face, and she nodded, overcome with a flood of conflicting emotions. She wanted to grieve for the loss of her parents, but part of her wondered if it was even appropriate to cry over people who had done so much wrong. What she had said to Judy hadn't been a lie, but her heart was tearing in two over Russell. He had been a cruel and distant father, but he had been a father just the same. "It's okay to mourn." As if he could read her mind, her true father squeezed her shoulder in a reassuring manner.

"Thank you," Quinn murmured, almost embarrassed to cry in front of the king. He was her father, yes, but they had met little under an hour ago. They hardly knew each other. It was obvious in the way he nodded and stepped away, giving her space, that he felt the same way, and Quinn knew she would have to reach out to him. He had lost and gained much, just as she had. For now, she was content to sink into the nearest chair and weep, burying her face in the crook of her arm. She wasn't sure how long she cried, but the feel of a hand on her back brought her into the present again. Glancing up, she was surprised and pleased to see the familiar face of her best friend looking down at her with concern. He didn't say anything, just held open his arms, and she let him hold her as she cried.

When she was finally finished, she extracted herself from Sam, mumbling apologies about the saltwater stains on his shirt. Finn moved to her side, reaching down for her hand, and Will raised his eyebrows.

"You seem to be fond of my daughter," Will said. Quinn managed to hide a smile, elated in the fact that he didn't hesitate to claim her as his own. It seemed like the protective parent instinct was still there, even after seventeen years, and as Finn stammered, Kurt let out a chuckle. Quinn glanced over her shoulder to see him standing next to Sam, who was also concealing a grin. "Might I ask what your interest is with her?" Will asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"I am very, very fond of your daughter, Your Highness." Finn stuttered, bowing lowly out of respect.

"You could call him her suitor!" Kurt chirped, grinning widely.

"The knight of her heart!" Sam chimed in, barely stifling his laughter.

"Her beau!" Kurt added, burying his face in Sam's shoulder and letting out a short peal of laughter. Finn turned beet red, and Quinn found herself shrugging again, this time with a smile.

"Q?" Sam's voice brought her back to the present, and Quinn shook her head. The memory brought a fond smile to her face. It seemed odd that it had happened months ago. Since then, her relationship with her father, her real father, had grown stronger, and she found herself spending more and more time in the castle of Marcel. Her relationship with Finn had grown stronger as well, and one fine fall day, he had lowered himself on one knee, and offered a ring his mother had helped him pick out, specifically for Quinn. He had already gotten her father's permission, and as he said, "all I need now is yours." There had been tears and kisses and a loud, resounding yes, and even now, Quinn still twisted the ring on her finger, each spin bringing a smile to her face. She had more than she could ever ask for, more than she had dreamed of, and it was all just what she had wanted.

"Everyone's waiting." Sam prompted gently. Rising from the mirror seat, Quinn laced her arm with Sam's, exiting the small powder room and letting him lead her down the hall, where the faint sounds of an organ drifted through. Quinn squeezed Sam's arm, and he grinned nervously, pressing another kiss to her cheek. They met up with the small line of people, and even though she knew he was waiting for her in the hallway across from the one she was standing in, Quinn found herself searching for Finn. Instead, she saw his mother, Queen Carole, at the head of the line. The queen turned to face the pair and beamed, tears lining the corners of her eyes.

"I can't believe it." She sobbed, pulling them both in for a hug. "My son, getting married!" Quinn smiled, allowing the queen to embrace her, and returning the hug eagerly. "I think I'm more excited than you!" Sam and Quinn laughed, and the queen let them go, dabbing at her eyes with a light blue handkerchief.

"Oh!" Quinn let out a yelp of surprise as a small object blew past her skirt. Giggling, Quinn turned, finding the offender and grinning. "Drizzle!" The small dog turned, his ears perked up at the sound of his name. In his mouth was the pillow that held the two rings that would be exchanged during the wedding ceremony, and around his neck was a small bowtie, the black a sharp contrast to his white fur. The organ began playing the wedding march, the round notes echoing down into the hall. Sam squeezed her hand tightly, and Quinn beamed, walking as the line began to move forward slowly, people making their way into the cathedral.

"It's going to be great," Quinn murmured. "You're going to do fine."

"What if I trip?" Sam hissed, his eyes widening. Quinn rolled her eyes, gently nudging him with her hip.

"Then you get back up." His expression caused her to burst out in laughter, and she kissed his cheek, shaking her head. "You're going to do great. I'll see you out there!" Waving over her shoulder, Quinn held her maid of honor bouquet in front of her, marching out in time to the music. When she reached the side of the altar, standing across from her was Finn. He gave her his trademark half-smile, and she felt her stomach fluttering, just as it had so many months ago at the ball that changed her fate. The ring on his left hand matched her own, and the sight of it, even now, caused her to grin. He was her husband. They were married, bonded together for the rest of their lives, and now, Kurt and Sam were ready to do the same.

Sam emerged from the back of the cathedral, ambling his way to the front with the same stable boy charm he had held when he first swung into Quinn's room. The kingdom had grown to love him, and he was greeted with cheers. His smile grew shy and he waved in return, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He stood in front of the altar, the music shifted, and all eyes turned to the back.

Kurt slowly walked out, Burt guiding him down the aisle. There was a sharp intake of breath. He was stunning, radiant as ever in all white, and he only had eyes for one. From the moment their gazes met across the room, it was as if everyone had melted away, and they were holding a private ceremony for two.

"Hi," Sam whispered, once Kurt was in front of him. Their hands were interlaced, and Kurt smiled bashfully.

"Hi." He replied softly, squeezing his hands. The minister smiled, and clapped his hands, calling everyone to order. Vows were exchanged, promises were made, and a small white dog provided the rings, which were slipped onto fingers, a solemn swear to love forever and always. Quinn locked eyes with Finn, who mouthed along with Kurt and Sam as they promised, "I do."

And they, as the stories say, lived happily ever after.


End file.
